Empty House
by balthezarian
Summary: After Bulma is in an accident, life in the Briefs household cannot go back to what it was.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: To answer the inevitable question about time, this story begins roughly one year after the whole Buu thing.

"For the last time, woman, no!" Vegeta shouted as he stalked toward the kitchen.

But Bulma Briefs had never taken that order particularly well. In fact, she had never taken it at all. "Oh, come on, Vegeta," she whined, following her husband, "it's not like I'm asking you to go shopping with me or anything."

Without even looking back, the Saiyan bit out, "That's exactly what you're trying to get me to do, and we have an agreement about that! You don't drag me to your ridiculous shops, I don't terrorize the general public. It's a win/win situation!"

Rolling her eyes, Bulma managed to wedge herself between her irritated husband and the door to the refrigerator. "Well, what I'm doing doesn't involve a shop, so the agreement doesn't pertain to it. It's actually this beautiful historical house that's been set up for…"

"Will you be capable of purchasing things there?"

"Well, technically…"

"Then it's a shop." Vegeta reached out and firmly grasped the door that stood between him and his lunch. "Now move."

The heiress stuck out her lower lip, trying to give her best pout. "Please, sweetie? I could really use your help there. I mean, there will just be so much that I'll need to take back with me, and some of it could be so big, I could really use a wonderful, strong man to help me out."

"Then call Kakarot!" the prince snapped, his temper growing dangerously thin.

Opting for a different route, the heiress crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at her husband. "Why is it that every time I ask you to help out around here, you don't do it? I mean, is it really so much to ask for you to take out the trash, or mow the lawn, or help with the dishes? No! It isn't! So why is it that you never…"

Bulma suddenly found a hand clamped firmly over her mouth. "I don't think so, woman," Vegeta said with a smirk. "I don't do any of those chores for the same reason _you_ don't do any of those chores: because you built _robots_ to do them _for_ you. And before you start yelling about how you spent so much time making them, need I remind you that I know perfectly well that the maintenance bots were all designed by your father, and that you only added a couple finishing touches that were usually only for aesthetic appeal?"

Shrieking into her husband's palm, Bulma roughly brought both of her hands to his wrist. She pushed as hard as she could, and while it would never have been enough to _force_ him to move, it was well understood between them that it meant it was time to let go. "Damn it, Vegeta!" she shouted, rubbing at her mouth, "I know you hate doing this, I know it goes against our agreement, and I know that if I get desperate, I could call Goku. But it would really, really make my life easier if you would just help me out! These are antiques I'm looking at! It's not like I can capsulize them or anything! And if I have to choose between you threatening every guy that checks me out and Goku's unbelievable ADD, I would pick your violent threats any day!"

Vegeta closed his eyes for a moment. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and Bulma knew that it meant that the end of the discussion was nigh. It was the face he always had right before he either agreed to something, refuse and leave the complex so she couldn't bother him, or would be so mad that he would remove himself from the area because he was about to lose it in front of his family. Bulma knew that it wasn't going to be the last one, but it still didn't make waiting for his answer any easier.

The prince opened his eyes, and before he said anything, Bulma had her answer. She knew that look from a mile away. It was the look that said, "You may have one the battle, but the war will yet be mine!" Bulma began to giggle with delight, and she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck.

"I'm not going with you."

Bulma's eyes snapped open, and she pulled away from her prince. "What the hell do you mean you're not going?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes as he reached out and pulled his wife back up against him. "I mean that there is no way in hell that you're getting me to go to a shop, particularly one for antiquated technology, but if you call me when you're done, I will assist you in loading your purchases into the car."

Bulma's features softened as she looked into her husbands eyes. Even after ten years with each other, it was still rare for him to make such an offer. It had really only been over the course of the last year that he had started bowing out of their arguments and trying to find a peaceful middle ground. While Bulma would never dare say it out loud, she knew what had triggered that change.

She smiled up at him and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I think that sounds wonderful," she softly said. She kissed him gently and sweetly before pulling back. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, smiling brilliantly at the man she loved. "You should be hearing from me in about five hours. It's going to take me almost an hour just to get there. Thanks, Vegeta!"

As she turned to walk out the door, she felt herself pause. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like the moment between them wasn't over yet. She turned back around to look at her husband, more than a little surprised to see that instead of immediately raiding for food, he was still watching her.

Bulma dropped her purse onto the kitchen table and strode to her husband. Simultaneously, they reached out for each other and pulled each other into a deep kiss. They held on to the moment for almost a minute when their nine year old decided to join them.

"Ew, gross!" he cried out. "Parental display of affection!"

"Shut up," his parents both responded in a calm fashion. Bulma again leaned up for a quick, tender kiss before pulling back slightly. "I love you, Vegeta," she whispered.

"I know," he replied.

It wasn't the most romantic thing in the world to say, but it was as close as he ever got to telling her what she wanted to hear. It was enough for her, though, at least for now. Giving him one final kiss on the cheek and waving good-bye, Bulma practically skipped out the door. She was in a great mood, and nothing was going to bring her out of it!

Thirty minutes later found Vegeta, Trunks, Goku, Gohan, and Goten in an open field, engaging in what they had described as a free-for-all fight. In reality, it was closer to a spar between the two full blooded Saiyans with the smallest of the half bloods trying to help their respective fathers and Gohan trying to keep the younger ones from accidentally getting seriously wounded.

Needless to say, Gohan was having a difficult time.

"Damn it, Goten!" the elder of the brothers shouted, yanking on the back of his brother's gi and pulling him to safety. "Don't do that!"

Goten turned around, wide eyed, and faced his big brother. "Gohan! You swore!"

"Ha ha, nerd boy swore!" Trunks taunted, trying to duck around to get Goku from the side. Trunks almost cursed himself as Goku blocked him yet again.

Goten still wasn't happy. "Gohan! Why did you have to pull me out?"

"Because it is NEVER a good idea to be anywhere between Dad's chest and Vegeta's flying fist!"

Goten stuck his lower lip out in a pout, but couldn't argue the point. He had wanted so badly to catch Vegeta off guard that he had deliberately forced himself between the two adults. While it had the desired effect of throwing Vegeta off, it hadn't given enough time for Vegeta to pull the punch enough. If Gohan hadn't anticipated his brother's move when he did, even Goten knew that it would have been very, very bad.

"Sorry, Gohan. I won't do it again."

Gohan smiled at his brother, knowing that it was only a matter of time before another stupid choice like that would be made. Goten, like Trunks, had an overdeveloped sense of what he could and could not do, which Gohan guessed was the result of growing up with that much power and no enemies to use it on.

"Just watch it, Squirt," he said with a laugh, ruffling his brother's hair. "Now let's get back into it. It looks like Trunks finally managed to get Dad!"

Goten's head snapped sideways as he realized that his brother was right. Without another moment's notice, he launched himself back into the fray.

Another ten minutes passed, and all five Saiyans were thriving. They were in their element, doing what they did best. Doing what they were born to do. Doing what they only got to do with each other. Nowhere else could they feel this alive.

Suddenly, Vegeta yelled out "STOP!"

All five Saiyans came to a grinding halt, and Vegeta's face drained of all color. "Oh, shit…" he whispered. Abruptly, he bolted from the group and took to the sky with a panicked look on his face.

Not missing a second, the other four followed him. Trunks got a sinking feeling in his stomach, and doubled his efforts to catch up to his father.

The Sons didn't know what was happening, but they knew it had to be bad. Vegeta never stopped a fight. He didn't leave to go check on something. He didn't take a break. Ever.

Soon, they found out why he had stopped.

By the time they landed, Vegeta was already pulling the door off of a half crushed car. Trunks tried to get to him, but found himself being forcefully held back by Goku.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "Let me go! She needs me!"

Goku tried to whisper calming things to the hysterical prince. Goten just floated there, staring, not knowing how to react. Gohan, _needing_ to help, joined the elder prince on the ground.

Bulma's car was alone, at the base of a small cliff near a winding country road. It was obvious that she had lost control of her vehicle, and that she had skid through the guard rail and off the edge. The front of her car was thoroughly smashed, and smoke and flames were starting to rise.

Goku watched quietly from the distance as Gohan and Vegeta pulled his oldest friend out of the wreckage. He silently held Trunks to his chest as he watched them lay her half broken and bloody body on the ground, feeling for a pulse. He stoically watched as his son and fellow Saiyan tried to resuscitate her.

He had never felt so helpless in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shit, shit, shit!" Vegeta frantically muttered, trying desperately to feel a pulse under his fingers. "Come on, woman, you can't do this to me!"

Gohan tore his shirt off and quickly turned it into a series of bandages. "Vegeta, does she have a…"

"She has to," Vegeta snapped. "She has to!"

The teenager quickly leaned forward, placing two of his fingers on Bulma's neck. He could feel his own pulse pounding in his fingers, and grunted as he tried to slow his own heart rate enough to feel any sign of life in the woman.

He felt nothing.

"Bind her wounds, _now!_" he shouted, pressing onto her chest.

For the first time in his life, Vegeta did not question what he was being told, nor did he object in any way at the fact that an eighteen year old had just given him a direct order. All he cared about was keeping his wife alive. Disregarding her injured legs, he immediately began tying the makeshift bandages on a particularly disgusting wound on his wife's side. By the time he had that one area covered, he had used Gohan's entire shirt.

Without hesitating, he ripped apart his own clothing, trying desperately to stop the bleeding that was coming from her head. As he finished up, he instinctively pushed Gohan aside, starting to attempt to start the woman's heart where the teen had left off.

Gohan only hesitated for a moment before remembering the cell phone in his back pocket. He quickly flipped it open and called for help.

"There's been an accident," he said, his voice oddly calm for the given situation. "Through a guard railing, off the side of a small cliff. One woman injured, in her early forties, and she doesn't have a heartbeat…"

"Yes, she does!" Vegeta snapped, the barest hint of a grin on his face. "Feel that!"

_Thank Kami_, the teenager thought. "We do have a heartbeat…our location?" He paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best possible explination for what his actual plan was, but quickly gave up on the notion. "Don't worry, we'll come to you…"

/\/\/\

From high up in the sky, Goku realized what the next step was going to be. Still holding Trunks roughly against his chest with one arm, he reached out with his other arm for his youngest child. "Hold on tight, Goten," he whispered. As soon as his child was firmly attatched to his side, the warrior teleported to Krillen's house.

"Do not, under any circumstances, let them leave until one of us comes back to get them," came his only command to his old friend before disappearing again, leaving the children behind.

Poor Krillen didn't have a chance to really process what was going on before Trunks bolted for the front door. If not for the lightning fast reflexes of his wife, Krillen would have been helpless against stopping the boy from getting away.

"Stop that!" the blonde commanded, violently jerking the boy back inside. "Now I don't know what's going on, but I do know that when Goku gives and order like that, it is for a reason!"

"I don't care what Kakarot said!" Trunks howled, thrashing in the woman's arms. "She needs me! She needs my help!"

/\/\/\

"She needs your help," Gohan calmly told the orderly at the hospital.

However, having just seen three powerful looking men and a bloody, unconscious woman appear as though from nowhere had seemingly made her brain cease functioning. "How…where…how…"

"Damn it, get off your fucking ass and show us where we need to take her!" the shortest of the three yelled.

"I'll take care of this," called out a matronly looking woman, rushing to the scene. "I'm Akiko. I took the call," she gently said, shoving a gurney passed the unnerved orderly. "The operating room is set up, our top surgeons are standing by, and we're ready to do everything we can to help."

The woman helped guide the victim onto the gurney, and she barked out orders to a group of nurses, getting them to rush the half mutilated woman to surgery. As they rushed her away, she turned back to the blood soaked men, hating the moment that she was in. This was when the family would be at their most desperate, when they needed someone to be calm and reassuring, to let them know that everything would be alright.

It was the moments like this she hated, when there was nothing to reassure about. She could not tell them that everything was going to be fine.

Especially since it probably wouldn't be.

/\/\/\

"I can't believe that you did that," Krillen said, his voice a combination of awe and horror.

"He was out of control," the blonde coolly replied. "He was hysterical, and we both know what happens when a half Saiyan kid gets that emotionally worked up."

"Well, yeah," the diminuative man hesitantly agreed. "I mean, I was there for the bulk of Gohan's developing years, and I'd be lying if I said that his mood swings didn't scare the hell out of me once in a while. But," he went on, "did you really need to do this?"

Eighteen shrugged. "I wasn't willing to risk having an absolutely hysterical, overly emotional nine year old with enough power to annihilate the planed running wild in my house."

"But Goten wasn't…"

"Can't do it to one without doing it to the other," the blonde quickly countered. "You know was well as I do that it I do something to 'calm' Trunks down, Goten will get worked up and become just as much as a hazard.

Krillen just shook his head. "I still can't believe that you just drugged the sons of the two strongest men in the world…"

/\/\/\

Vegeta just stood there, unable to do anything. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he could barely even breathe. The entire day up until the crash had been so regular. He had done the same things that he had done almost every day for the past few years. He woke up before dawn, trained as hard as he could until mid morning, got something to eat, spent some time with his wife, trained harder for a few hours, got his son, spent some time training with him…it had all been so normal.

There was nothing to indicate that he would find himself standing there, in the harsh and bright hallways of a hospital, soaking in his wife's blood, wondering if his woman would even survive the hour.

"This isn't happening," he whispered. "This is all just a nightmare. I'm asleep right now, I know I am. I'm going to wake up, roll over, and see that she's right next to me. Probably snoring louder than a truck with a faulty transmission."

With a worried look on his face, Goku opened his mouth, ready to say something, but a hand on his shoulder and a glance from his son told him to save his speech for a later time.

"I'll go check on the kids," the tallest warrior softly said, backing away from the group slightly. He slowly placed his fingers to his forehead and vanished from the scene, not saying another word.

Gohan turned to his prince, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "There's going to be paperwork that needs to be filled out," he calmly stated. "I'll go grab it from the woman at that window over there, and then you can get started on it."

Vegeta simply nodded, refusing to move a muscle. He still couldn't believe that any of this was happening.

/\/\/\

Goku appeared in the bedroom of Krillen's daughter, Marron. He was slightly confused until he looked to his left and saw all three kids sleeping soundly on the bed. He gazed down on the three sleeping figures, a sad smile on his face. Goku ran his large hand through Trunks' hair, feeling a sharp pang of sympathy for the boy. He couldn't even begin to imagine how hard this all had to be for the sleeping child,

Trunks was a boy who was extremely intelligent for his age, and had already experienced more in his short life than almost anyone else his age. But this experience was more than almost any child could bear. To have your first real experience with pain and suffering come from seeing your own mother in a half mangled heap…

"Do I even want to know how you got him to take a nap after all of this?" the Saiyan asked, knowing that his friend had just entered the room.

Krillen stiffened slightly before answering, "Probably not."

The two of them stood in silence for a minute, watching down on the youngest, most innocent members of their little group. At moments like this, it was hard for either of them to think about the fact that these children, these innocent beings, were created by them.

After a quiet moment, Krillen looked up at his oldest friend. "Goku, what's going on?" he quietly asked. "I feel Vegeta's power level spike, then all of you suddenly do the same thing, and before I can figure out what's happening, you show up with the boys, and Trunks is so hysterical that we had to knock him out to keep him from going totally ballistic. What the hell is going on?"

The docile Saiyan suddenly looked like he might just cry. "There was an accident," he croaked out. "Bulma's car flipped off of the edge of the road and fell down a cliff side."

"Kami almighty," Krillen whispered. "Is she alright?"

Goku's shoulders shuddered slightly as he shook his head. "I don't know, Krillen. I don't know!"

The shorter man gave his friend a reassuring pat on the back. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Goku. If it was that bad, you'd be there, not here."

But Goku just shook his head again. "No, you don't get it. I'm here because I don't know how to do this!" Seeing the confused look on his friend's face, Goku tried unsuccessfully to take a calming breath. "I've never dealt with anything like this before, Krillen. I…I've never had to know that someone was about to…I mean, that she could…"

Krillen pulled on his friend's arm, guiding him out of the room. "It's that bad, huh?" he whispered, getting his large friend to sit down.

Goku nodded. "There was...the blood was everywhere…"

"You've seen that before," Krillen reasoned. "It happens sometimes. You've seen most of us go down in battle, and if something is really wrong, we just use the dragon balls and…"

"Six months," the Saiyan interrupted. "It'll be six months before we can use them again. And this is different, Krillen. Bulma isn't a warrior, she wasn't in a battle, and this wasn't something that she was ready for! This isn't supposed to happen! She doesn't do stuff like this! I wasn't ready for this! I…I…"

That was as far as the warrior got before the pressure finally got to him, he broke down, and he cried.

/\/\/\

Gohan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing that he'd been able to find a shirt that had fit him better. After getting Vegeta the paperwork, he had managed to scrounge up a couple of scrub tops for the two of them. After all, they had both sacrificed their shirts to try to stop the bleeding.

As surreal as the entire event was, he was more than a little impressed with how well Vegeta was handling it thus far. He hadn't screamed or yelled at anyone, he hadn't made anyone cry or soil themselves, he hadn't had a complete emotional breakdown yet…he had actually managed to keep it together. He had very calmly filled out all of the papers, handed them in, and quietly sat down in the waiting room.

It was actually a little too contained for the demi-Saiyan's comfort. The Vegeta he knew how to deal with was an absolute wild card with a fuse shorter than grass and the ability to move anyone in the universe to tears.

This overly contained mode just made the teenager nervous. There was every reason in the universe for Vegeta to be blowing up, and if he was holding it in now, it was going to be catastrophic when that finally came out.

After twenty minutes of sitting in absolute silence, Gohan suddenly figured out why the man wasn't flinching. He was keeping a constant watch on his wife from afar. He was so focused on Bulma's life force that he honestly didn't care what the hell the rest of the world was doing. As far as the prince was concerned, there was only one other person on the planet.

Nothing existed but his wife.

/\/\/\

Seventeen hours. That was how long Bulma Briefs had been in surgery. Most of her major organs had been seriously damaged, her skull had been cracked in three places, and she had nearly bled to death in the minute and a half it had been between the accident and her arrival at the hospital. Her prognosis was grim at best.

A tall surgeon came out to the waiting room, slowly removing his mask. "Are you the family of Ms. Briefs?" he asked.

"Yes," Gohan answered, figuring it was better that Vegeta not get directly involved. "How is she?"

"She's alive," Vegeta flatly said.

The surgeon blinked in shock for a moment before going on. "Yes, she is alive," he confirmed. "However, she is in a coma, and the trauma was extremely severe. I am honestly surprised that she lived long enough to get to the operating table. While she is not technically brain dead, the odds of her surviving the night are slim at best."

"She'll be fine," the Saiyan prince snapped, jumping to his feet.

The surgeon drew a deep breath, shaking his head. He hated dealing with irrational family members. "Sir, I'm not trying to be cruel. But you need to understand the reality of this situation.

Ms. Briefs was in a very traumatic accident. She has a chance to pull through, but it is not a good one. We had to do major reconstruction on almost ever major organ in her body, and the damage that was done to her head is fatal in ninety percent of cases."

He took a step toward the two men, a somber look on his face. "Even if she does wake up," he quietly continued, "the damage that was done was so severe that there will likely be permanent damage."

"What kind of damage are we talking about?" Gohan hesitantly asked.

The surgeon shook his head again. "There's no way to know until she wakes up, if that ever happens. It could be a loss of hearing, loss of vision, memory loss, inability to speak properly, the inability to think in a linear fashion…it could be one of them or all of them, or any of a hundred other possible long term effects. She may not even be able to walk again."

"She'll be fine!" Vegeta shouted again. His hair shot to gold and he lunged forward, lashing out at the man.

Gohan barely caught the prince in time. "Calm down!" he shouted. "It's not his fault!"

Vegeta shifted his weight, whipped around, and slammed his fist into the teenagers face. "Get the hell off of me!" he roared. However, that little bit of release was enough for him to stop try to kill the doctor again. "How long until she wakes up?" he snapped at the now terrified man.

Shaking in his scrubs, the doctor stammered out, "Sir, like I said earlier…"

The prince slammed his fist into the wall, tearing a hole straight through it. "TELL ME!"

"What is the earliest possible time that she _could_ get up?" Gohan rephrased, coming back into the room.

The surgeon looked at the disheveled teenager. "Um…twelve hours at the earliest…"

"What room is she in?" Vegeta snapped.

"Um…327…"

That was all the prince needed to hear before he was off like a shot, leaving Gohan behind with the doctor. The teenager turned to the surgeon, a grim look on his face. "How many people know that Bulma Briefs might not last the night?"

The other man thought about it for a moment. "A rotation of seven surgeons total, fifteen nurses to support, one head nurse, and anyone else you might have run into when you first arrived."

Gohan took several slow steps toward the doctor, closing the gap between them. "I need to make sure that every single one of them keeps their mouths shut about this, and I promise you that we, her friends and family, will hold you personally responsible for any and all security leaks about it. No one knows. Got it?"

It didn't take much convincing for Gohan to be assured that the doctor would do everything in his power to keep the entire incident under wraps. He was more than a little concerned that too many people knew about it, and that the story could have already leaked. If that had happened, it could be disastorous.

If Bulma Briefs, the heiress to the world's largest fortune and the president and CEO of the single most powerful company in the world, died in a hospital, it would be all over the news. And if that happened, they couldn't bring her back.

The rest of the world could not know about the dragon balls, and they would have to if she came back. There was no way to bring that large a figure back from the dead without someone figuring out how it had happened.

If Bulma Briefs died, and the world knew about it, she had to stay dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Yes, this story will ultimately focus on the Briefs' household, but we are not quite there yet. We will be, soon, and believe me when I say that there's still a long way to go on this tale. I just need a little more background work in before I think we can really move on to that. I hope that it will pay off in the end. Thank you all for your wonderful and helpful reviews so far!

\/\/\/

Gohan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, groaning as his back cried out in pain. "Damn, these things are uncomfortable," he grumbled, trying to straighten out his spine.

"I agree whole heartedly," came a feminine voice from behind him.

The half bred Saiyan whipped around, ignoring the pain in his back. "Mom?" he loudly asked.

The dark haired woman nodded, a half smile on her face. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she responded with a soft chuckle.

Gohan rubbed what little sleep was left out of his eyes. "When did you get here?"

"About three and a half hours ago," she replied, coming around to take a seat in front of her son. "You were completely asleep, and it's been such a hard day on everyone that I thought you could use the nap."

"Three and a half hours…" the teenager whispered. "So Bulma's been out of surgery now for…seven hours, right?"

"I don't know, honey," Chi-Chi softly replied, placing a hand on her eldest child's shoulder. "I came to check up on you, and I don't know what time it was that Bulma got out. All I know is that she was already in her room by the time I got here."

Gohan blinked twice at his mother. "How did you know?" he asked. "I mean, about Bulma. How did you know she was here?"

Chi-Chi once again gave her son a half smile. "There's been this wonderful new invention, Gohan, called the telephone. See, with it, someone in one location can send a signal, or 'call', to a person in another…"

Gohan laughed as he cut his mother's sarcasm off. "All right, all right, I get it. Someone called you."

"Krillen did," the mother clarified. "And I'm sorry that it took so long to get here to see you. When Krillen called, he sounded very stressed. He told me what he knew about Bulma's situation, which wasn't much and certainly wasn't good news, and then told me that your father was…having a few issues…"

The teenager once again shifted in his chair. "Dad?" he asked. "Issues? I don't think I've ever known about him having a problem with anything before. Seriously, I haven't seen him actually get upset since, like, Namek, and even that seemed to be fairly come and go."

His mother sadly nodded. "Well, he's never done this before," she pointed out.

"It's not like I have!" Gohan protested, jumping to his feet. He didn't know why, but he had a sudden urge to defend himself and seek pity at the same time. He didn't know why his father was allowed to fall apart while he, the son, had to work to keep everything together.

Chi-Chi very calmly pulled her son back down to his chair. "I know this is very hard for you, Gohan," she patiently started. "You've done so much already, and if it weren't for you and your wonderful intelligence, Bulma would never have made it this far. You've put so much of the burden on your shoulders, and you've stood up under it very well. However," she continued, "you are very different from your father."

Still feeling agitated, but calm enough to sit still, Gohan simply nodded at his mother's statement.

"Your father is an interesting man," she went on. "Like you said before, he's never really had issues with anything. That's because he's never known anything to have an unhappy ending. Everything, _everything_, in your father's life has always ended in a way that he has found acceptable. It's always been a happy ending. And he's never been in this position before. You have, and that's why you are dealing with all of this so much better than he is."

"What do you mean?" the teenager asked, his hands folding in his lap.

Chi-Chi sighed, turning her eyes away from her son. "You and I…we've done this so many times before," she started. "We've been in this position where we know that someone we love might die, and that there's nothing we can do but stand there and wait for the outcome. When you were so little and that evil uncle of yours took you, all you could do was wait for your daddy to either save you or die trying.

"The same thing happened with Namek. You were wished back here, and your father chose to stay and fight. You knew that he might end up getting killed, and all you could do was sit, wait, and pray for his safe return."

Gohan took his mother's words in, realizing that it was true.

"I've done it more than either of you," she pointed out, still avoiding her son's gaze. "When that green monster…"

"Piccolo," Gohan corrected.

"…whatever. When he took you away from me, and all I could do was wait and pray for one whole year, I thought that I was going to die from the pain I was in." Her voice softened to a whisper. "You were my baby, Gohan, and I didn't know if you were even alive."

The teenager couldn't even begin to form words. He had not thought about what his family had been through in years. In fact, he had deliberately thrown himself into his training and his studies to make sure that he would never have the time to dwell on it. Their little family had been torn apart and put back together so many times that he had lost count. And he couldn't remember having ever thought about what his mother had been through.

Chi-Chi moved into the chair next to her son. "But your father has never done this," she said. "Everyone he's ever known who died, he had some sort of warning about. And most of them died in battle, and for someone like your father, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Yes, he would rather keep his friends alive, but when someone is going off to a life or death fight, there's a little part of you that's always prepared for death to win.

"And we also need to take into consideration that he's never known anyone who died from something like this," she pointed out. "It's always been with a fist or a ki blast or something. It's always been in battle. Never an accident. And because it's always been a battle, and he usually has those beans with him, he's always been able to at least help out."

Gohan looked at his mother, finally starting to feel the tears in his eyes that he had been holding in for over a day. "He's never just had to hope," he concluded. "He's never had to just wait."

Chi-Chi nodded. "Exactly. That's why you called for help, patched up wounds, somehow kept Vegeta from going completely ballistic in this hospital…"

"Actually, he's done most of that on his own," Gohan pointed out. "He's been almost disturbingly calm through all of this."

His mother nodded again. "His tension level is probably through the roof, though," she thought out loud, "which was why I told Krillen to keep everyone at his place."

Gohan raised an eyebrow at that last statement. "Everyone?" he asked. "Who is 'everyone'?"

Chi-Chi sort of shrugged one shoulder at the question. "It's, well, everyone. Krillen, Eighteen, and Marron, obviously, since it's their home. Roshi, your father, your brother, and poor little Trunks were there, all of them having been subdued in one way or another. Tien and Chaotzu, I think, were meditating outside. And Yamcha…"

The teen felt a sudden pang in his heart. He hadn't even remotely considered the scarred baseball player. It was no secret that Yamcha never actually got over Bulma, and that if Vegeta hadn't been so infinintly powerful compared to the human and with such an extreme history of violence, the Earthling would have fought much harder, and he might have won.

"How is Yamcha taking it?" Gohan asked, his voice extremely serious.

Chi-Chi shook her head. "Not well," she admitted. "He was literally pulling his hair out, and he wasn't making a lot of sense in his ramblings."

Gohan cringed, hissing in slightly. "Is it really good idea to have him that close to Trunks? That can't be a good idea. Those two…"

"Trunks is asleep," Chi-Chi assured her first born. "And Yamcha will be following shortly, if he isn't out already."

"Eighteen slipped them some of her 'meditating juice'?" Gohan asked with a laugh.

"Of course she did," Chi-Chi calmly replied. "Of course, she's almost out of it now. It took a fair amount to take down the kids, it took most of what she had left to take down your father."

Gohan just shook his head. "For the first time, I actually understand why Bulma made Eighteen the caretaker of that formula. I thought she was insane when she made it." He laughed quietly to himself. "I mean, the very idea of making a sedative powerful enough to take down the most powerful warriors our planet has…it just seemed like something that we would never need. And for the last five years, I've been right."

The mother pulled her hair out of its bun and shook it out, running her fingers lightly through it. "This was exactly what she had in mind when she made it," she calmly said, shaking her hair out. "This was one of her fears."

The teenager nodded along, already having known this. "That is true," he conceded. "But somehow, I think that she was going to be dosing Vegeta with it, not everyone else on the planet."

"I know," Chi-Chi agreed. "She's always been kind of worried that something would happen to her, and that Vegeta was going to lose it."

Five years earlier, Bulma had been adamant about making sure that Krillen had what she had deemed "The Earth's Backup". Vegeta had always had a legendary short temper, and was more than a little prone to acts of extreme violence when stressed. Bulma had admitted years ago that one of her greatest fears was that something would happen to herself or to Trunks and that Vegeta would become so emotionally destroyed that he would revert back to his old ways. So, just to hedge her bets, she had created a liquid that could knock out even the strongest of Saiyans. She had openly told her husband that Krillen had something, just in case.

She had casually let the fact that both Gohan and Chi-Chi had their own kits go unmentioned.

Neither Chi-Chi nor Gohan had thought about the irony before that moment. The simple fact, that when Bulma Briefs was put in a life threatening position and her outcome looked bleak, Vegeta would be one of the only ones _not_ needing to be subdued, was almost amusing.

"So, how is everyone else?" Gohan asked, stretching out his ever growing body. Even though he was eighteen, he found himself hitting what seemed like _another_ growth spurt.

Chi-Chi half shrugged. "To be honest, the only one I was paying a lot of attention to was your father. He was…" The mother took a moment to form her words carefully. "I didn't understand just how addicted your father was to being, well, helpful. Even when he was half subdued, he was still trying to get back over here. It took me hours to get him to stay put. That's part of what took me so long. Well, that, and the eight hour drive it was to get to Krillen's house in the first place, and then the six and a half hour drive to get from there to this hospital."

Gohan chuckled softly. "Don't take this the wrong way, Mom, but _you're _taking this surprisingly well."

"Oh, you say that like I overreact to everything!" the mother said with a joke of a scowl on her face.

"You do," Gohan simply replied.

Chi-Chi smacked her son playfully on the shoulder. "You know, if you people would just teach me how to fly, I could have been a lot more useful up to this point."

"Well, I think we probably should have taught you how to fly long ago," Gohan agreed, "but I'm not sure how much more useful you could have been. Dad and Trunks would have been worked up either way, Krillen and Eighteen would still be trying to keep everything in check, I'd still have come here to make sure that everything was okay, and it's not like any of us can get physically near Bulma right now."

Chi-Chi sighed, shaking her head. "You know," she thought out loud, "I have never liked that man."

Gohan raised an eyebrow, silently asking who his mother was referencing.

"Vegeta," she clarified. "I've always thought that he was a jackass who didn't deserve another chance and would always be the monster that he was when he first came here."

"Don't you think the same thing about Piccolo?" Gohan asked, not sure where the conversation was going.

Chi-Chi nodded hesitantly. "Well, yes, but at the same time, I don't. I always have, and always will, bear a grudge against him. I know he has saved your life, been there as your friend, and done good for years, but he is still the one that took my baby away from me. No mother forgives that. And yet, because I know about how close the two of you are, I could at least be somewhat at ease over his presence. Not completely, but somewhat."

The mother paused for a moment before going on. "Vegeta, on the other hand, I have never felt even a little bit comfortable around. He has always seemed like a threat to us in my eyes. And before you interrupt, I already know that he's 'not the same', as you and your father love to point out."

"As long as you acknowledge that," Gohan quietly said.

Chi-Chi snorted lightly. "The two of you have that overly forgiving nature, and I swear that it's going to be the death of me." She shook her head slightly as she tried to get back on track. "Vegeta has always been rude, aggressive, disrespectful, and obnoxiously arrogant. He's never once shown affection for Bulma or Trunks. At least, not in front of me. I always thought that he was with Bulma out of convenience."

She laughed quietly to herself for a moment. "He's been here, in a place we both know he dislikes, on a planet he can't stand, sitting in a small, confined room and watching over her. He's held himself in check, in spite of everything that's happened, and it's obvious that he's doing it for her. As horrible as this might sound, sometimes it's the moments like this that let us see who we truly are and what we truly love."

Gohan smiled at his mother. "Does that mean that you finally agree that Vegeta's a good person?"

"Let's not get carried away," his mother chuckled. "I said that he really does care about his family. I still think that overall he's an ass, but at least he does have a heart and he does have love in it." Chi-Chi ruffled her fingers through her son's hair. "Now, I know that you've been here for a day, and you look quite silly wearing your blood stained training pants and a scrubs top. I packed you a change of clothes, and there's enough food in the third capsule to appease even the most ravenous of Saiyan appetites."

"Woo hoo!" Gohan cheered, jumping to his feet. "You are the greatest mother ever!"

The woman laughed, handing over the capsule case to her first born. "You have more than earned a break, Gohan. Change, eat, and then get out of here for a while. I'll call you if there's any news before you get back."

Gohan raised a brow at his mother. "Are you sure? I mean, if Vegeta finally does have a meltdown…"

"I brought the frying pan, I'll be fine," she interrupted. "Now you get out of here, Gohan Son, and you take a break from this right now!"

The teenager smiled at his mother as he turned down the hall to walk away. He stopped when his mother called out his name. "Yes?" he asked, looking back at her.

Chi-Chi smiled softly at her son, remaining in her seat. "I am very, very proud of you."

Gohan smiled back at her before disappearing down the hallway. He took a longer route, stopping by Bulma's room on his way out. Ever so softly, he rapped his knuckles on the door. "Can I come in?" he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

When he heard no answer, the teenager gently pushed the door open slipped in.

He almost cried at what he saw.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I would like to apologize in advance for the length of this chapter. I had every intention of making it significantly longer, but I feel like each chapter is more affective when it focuses on one major issue at a time. The 'original' chapter is over twice this length, but it just didn't carry the same emotional pull as it did when I cut it off when I did.

So yes, this chapter is short. But this does mean that the next chapter will be up in just a few days!

\/\/\/

Gohan stood frozen in his place at the door. He just could not bring himself to the room. It was too sad, too miserable, and more than that, too terrifying for him.

It wasn't his first time in a hospital room. He had been in one himself when he was only about five, during the aftermath of the battle with Vegeta. He had a few broken bones and required a couple of stitches, but he had gotten off easy compared to his father. Goku had been stuck in that full body cast for months. It was a hard, intense, violent battle. There had been bleeding and bruising and breaking of bones. There had been pain and suffering. There had been death.

At the moment, that all seemed like such a nice alternative to standing in that doorway.

For the first time, Gohan felt sick to his stomach over the accident. For the first time, he realized just how different this was from what he was used to. He had spent so much time worrying about what would happen when…_if, IF_…Bulma died that he had not really taken time to consider the state that she would be in.

He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw.

The only light in the room was the eerie glow that radiated from the monitors attached to the heiress. There seemed to be one for every major organ, because they were _all_ at risk for failing. An ominous beep sounded every time her frail heart beat. There was a frightening hiss every few seconds as another breath of air was pushed into her lungs and suctioned back out by her breathing tube. And Bulma herself…

She was virtually unrecognizable. Almost every inch of her visible body was black, blue, and red. Her skin and muscles were swollen all over. Anything that had not received bruising and breaking during the crash had certainly gotten cut through during surgery. Even if she had been awake, she probably would have been unable to open her eyes from the swelling. Several IV's were leading in to her arms. Her beautiful blue hair, which she had spent the last year growing out, had been shaved off. Row after row of black, ugly stitches ran in tracks along her shorn head.

This was not the Bulma that Gohan knew.

He would have sworn that he was in the wrong room, that he had been staring at a stranger, if not for the Saiyan by her side.

Vegeta sat in a hard, plastic chair that had been dragged right up against the side of the hospital bed. As though in a trance, he stared intently at his love. His right hand was very softly holding on to hers, mindful to not disturb the needle in it, and with his left hand, he was slowly tracing lines down her once beautiful face. He just kept repeating the same trail along her, running from her forehead, down her cheek, and along her jaw. The same motion, the same pattern, the same movements, every time.

Gohan found himself staring at those motions for several minutes. He simultaneously wanted to go in and make sure everything was fine, and to turn around and never look back.

He was actually somewhat surprised, after ten minutes of standing in that doorway, that Vegeta had not even seemed to notice his presence. That, as far as the teenager was concerned, could not be a good sign. Vegeta was always on alert. Between being a warrior in the most brutal army in the universe, and being the father of the most hyperactive and powerful child ever, Vegeta had more than mastered the ability to know where everyone was, at all times.

But he had done nothing to indicate that he was even slightly aware of the fact that the teenager was standing there, watching them. Gohan decided that it would be best to slip out unnoticed. The last thing he wanted to do was startle an on edge, agitated, distraught Saiyan. Quickly, he turned around to leave.

"One afternoon."

Gohan froze where he was. Apparently, Vegeta _had_ noticed his presence. _Either that or he's talking to himself,_ Gohan wondered as he turned around to face his prince. He wanted to respond with something comforting, something soothing, or if nothing else, something intelligent.

Unfortunately, the only word he could get out was, "What?"

"One afternoon," the prince repeated. "That was all she wanted from me. Just a few hours out of one day."

Gohan wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but he was sure he wasn't going to like it. Gohan walked a few steps into the room, waiting for Vegeta to make the next move.

"All I would have had to do was sit in the car with her for a couple hours, let her get her little prizes, and help her get home. I could have stayed outside that place and meditated while she did her shopping. I could have worked on concentration while I was in the car. Hell, I could have _listened_ to her in the car." Vegeta shook his head slightly, his face still completely blank. "But I didn't," he continued. "I didn't feel like it, so I let her go by herself."

The teenager felt his blood run cold as he realized what Vegeta was saying. Bulma had asked her husband to come along, he had turned her down, and now, here she was, barely clinging to life. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if Vegeta had been in the car when something went wrong, he would have easily been able to keep her safe. But because he wasn't there to protect her, she was barely alive.

"Vegeta, it's not your…"

"It's not working."

Gohan blinked in confusion before taking a step closer to the prince. "What's not working?" he quietly asked.

But the prince said nothing, simply continuing to trace his fingers along that same pattern on his lover's face, over and over and over again. He was still yet to look in Gohan's direction. In fact, he was yet to shift out of that position at all.

The teenaged fighter took another step closer to the hospital bed, looking down. A barely visible soft blue light was pulsing softly from the prince's fingertips. It only took the boy a second to realize what was going on.

Vegeta was directly feeding his energy in to his wife.

"What makes you think it's not working?" the boy quietly asked.

Vegeta traced his pattern down his wife's face, an unreadable expression still on his own. "She's not waking up," he plainly replied.

Gohan shifted uncomfortably where he stood. After a moment of thought, he grabbed the other chair in the room and pulled it next to Vegeta's. "That doesn't necessarily mean that it's not working," Gohan softly replied. "After all, it was unlikely that she was going to wake up within the first few hours anyway. When a body goes through something like that, the best thing that it can do for itself is rest."

The prince ever so slightly shook his head. It was the first physical acknowledgement that Gohan had gotten from him since he had entered the room. "I thought we were going to have more…"

As his sentence dropped off, Gohan moved his seat back slightly. He wasn't sure why, but he suddenly wanted to be out of Vegeta's line of sight. It wasn't that he was nervous or anything, it just seemed to make the atmosphere more comfortable. "More what?" he softly pushed.

Vegeta kept his eyes locked on his wife. It took almost two minutes to answer.

"Time," he finally responded.

Again, Gohan was not sure what the prince was talking about, but, for the first time, he honestly thought that if he just waited patiently, he might actually get an answer. Under any other circumstance, the prince could give someone the cold shoulder for weeks, months if possible. He did not open up. Under this sort of situation, though, he actually seemed willing to talk. Not a lot, and not without some guidance, but he was actually putting out information.

"We were supposed to have more time."

Gohan flinched at those words, but kept quiet. He didn't dare risk interrupting the man's thoughts.

Vegeta's trail along his battered wife's face still hadn't strayed at all. "This wasn't how this was…she wasn't supposed to…not now, not like this…"

"Time to do what, Vegeta?" Gohan asked, trying to get the prince back on track.

The room was silent for a moment. "Just…time," he finally answered. He sighed softly to himself. "You wouldn't understand, boy."

Against his better judgment, Gohan reached out for the elder Saiyan. "I know how hard it can be to think that someone you care about might die, but even if she…"

Those were the only words that the poor boy could get out before he found himself slammed into the hospital wall, his air completely cut off by the bloody hand on his throat.

"Shut the _fuck_ up!" he hissed, grinding the teenager harder into the wall. "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about! You have never, _never_ been in this situation, boy, and don't you _dare_ tell me that you have!"

Gohan opened his mouth, desperately trying to suck in air.

"You have always had some way to get your family back!" the prince snapped, squeezing Gohan's throat even tighter. "Magic balls, mystical creatures, even death! There has always been a way!"

The teenager clawed at the hand around his neck as his world began to blur.

But Vegeta hardly seemed to notice the boy's struggles. "But I don't have that choice, do I?!?" he shouted, intensifying his grip further still. "You people won't let me near the dragon balls, the gods all want to see me suffer, and when _I_ die…"

Just as Gohan was ready to give in to the darkness, he felt a painful rush of air as his windpipe was released. Even while he had been on the verge of having his throat crushed, the teenager had been listening to every word. Hey, if he was going to die, he at least wanted to know why. He had figured out that he had crossed a line a half second before the prince had him up against the wall. What he didn't understand, though, was why he had been released. Not that he minded, of course.

"Get out," Vegeta growled, turning his back to the boy.

The teenager didn't need to be told twice. Gohan scurried to his feet and bolted for the door. He figured that it was about time he took that break his mother had been talking about…

Vegeta didn't make a sound as he heard the door slam behind him. He just silently walked toward his overturned chair, set it back up, sat down in it, and continued his ritual.

"You have to get through this, woman," he whispered, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. "You have to…"


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: As I referenced at the beginning of the last chapter, this is the second part of what was originally Chapter 4. So, as the last chapter was, this one will be a bit shorter than usual. Thank you for putting up with this, though. I really did think that this helps the emotional impact of each of these chapters.

And thank you all so, so much for your wonderful reviews! You guys are the best!

\/\/\/

"No change," Krillen said with a sigh as he hung up the phone.

Gohan nodded, his face virtually neutral after his mother's report. "In a manner of speaking," he quietly said, "that's actually good news."

The other adults in the room, which was really just his father and Krillen, looked at him curiously. "Gohan, she is not better," Goku stated, looking dejectedly at his large hands. "That's not bad news, but that's not good news either."

"Actually, it is," Gohan countered. "In most cases this severe, just being able to remain in stable condition for over twenty four hours after surgery is a good thing. Most fatalities occur during that first twenty four hour period of time."

Krillen shook his head. When Chi-Chi had called for her bi-hourly report, he had really been hoping for something better. "Hey, Gohan," the diminutive man asked, "would a senzu bean work right now? I mean, I know that there aren't any right now, and that this question won't actually fix anything, but if there had been some on the plant, would it be able to work?"

The teenager popped an eyebrow up at the question. "How should I know?" he admittedly responded. "I have had no more experience with them than any of you do."

"Well, yeah, but I was curious, and if anyone in our gang could figure it out, it would be you," Krillen responded with a laugh. "I mean, you are the brain of the gang after all!"

Gohan chuckled lightly. "Okay, I admit it, I'm a nerd." His smile faded for a moment as he seriously pondered the shorter man's question. "I really don't know whether it would work or not," he eventually responded. "I mean, her system is barely responding to nutrition based stimuli. What little she is receiving is broken down in to the simplest possible forms they could be in. The human body, in that condition, would have severe difficulty breaking down something like a bean. On the other hand," he went on, "it worked for me on Namek when…when Recoome snapped my neck."

He paused as a shiver ran down his spine. The entire experience had been traumatic to him, with the two most devastating moments being Vegeta's exploding heart and his own snapped spine. Yes, he had seen a lot of violence and death there, but those two moments would haunt him forever. Watching Vegeta, who had seemed like such an indominable force, get beaten near to death and then have his heart shot out of his chest, had made him feel more hopeless than he ever had before. Watching him struggle to get out his last words, choking on his own blood and vomit, was too much.

And his own neck…Gohan had been beaten down a lot in his life, but that was the worst physical feeling he had ever, ever had. For the forty seven seconds it was from the time his neck broke until the time his father gave him the bean, Gohan had felt himself going insane. His muscles twitched as random nerves tried to keep him alive, lungs wouldn't breathe, his heart wouldn't beat, and his mouth couldn't speak. He had been completely trapped in his own mind. It had been hell.

"I suppose it would," he finally reasoned. "I mean, if it worked on me without my nervous system being fully active, then it should work on a person in any condition, as long as they are still technically alive."

"See?" Krillen said with a smile. "I knew you'd know!"

"I don't know," Gohan countered. "I theorized."

Krillen just shrugged his shoulders. "Close enough." He ran his fingers through his hair before turning to his oldest friend. "Hey, Goku, penny for your thoughts man."

The full blooded Saiyan looked up, his sorrow visible in his dark brown eyes. "How long has it been since we got Bulma?" he softly asked.

"Fifty seven hours and forty eight minutes," his son responded after a quick check of his watch. "Why?"

Goku shrugged. "I just…I want to go see her."

Gohan and Krillen exchanged nervous glances with each other. "Dad," Gohan softly said, placing a hand on his father's shoulder, "I don't think that's such a good idea."

A sad smile crossed the large man's features. "It's okay, Gohan," he assured his first born. "I really have calmed down. It's just…"

The two other occupants of the room waited quietly for him to continue.

Goku squirmed in his chair. He really didn't want to tell them his real reason he wanted to see her, but he knew he was a terrible liar and that they deserved the truth. "If…if she really is…going away for a while," he began as diplomatically as possible, "then I want to…ah, never mind. It's going to sound stupid."

Krillen pulled up a chair and sat as his best friend's side. "Hey," he softly said, "no matter what it is, we won't think it's stupid."

Gohan nodded as he walked behind his father. He kept his arms crossed protectively across his chest, though. He wasn't sure why, but he felt slightly apprehensive at the moment. "It's okay, Dad," he assured. "Tell us."

Again, Goku shifted in his chair before letting out a tired sigh. "I want to make sure that I get a chance to say good-bye," he finally admitted.

As Krillen rubbed his friend's back comfortingly, Gohan took a step back. The teenager felt a bitter twinge arise in his chest, one that he hadn't felt in years. He couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed by his father's thoughts. When Goku had decided to leave, saying he was never coming back, he hadn't even bothered to directly tell his wife. Now, though, he needed to make sure that he got in one more talk with an old friend.

The boy drew a deep, quiet breath as he steadied his nerve. He kept in mind his mother's lessons of _if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all._ There was nothing crossing his mind that could help the situation, so he chose to stay quiet and let Krillen talk.

"I still don't think that it's a good idea, Goku," Krillen said. "She's not in a good place right now, and it's not like Vegeta's really going to let anyone even get close to her until she's better."

"Gohan got into the room," the taller man countered. "And I'm closer to Bulma than he is. Besides, I don't want to take her somewhere or something. I just want to talk to her incase she dies!"

"Look, Goku," the shorter man said, "even if the worst thing happens, we'll still see her again."

Gohan felt a pang in his heart, recalling the words he had heard from Vegeta earlier. _"You people won't let me near the dragon balls, the gods all want to see me suffer, and when I die…"_ If the worst happened, everyone would get a chance to see their inventive friend…except for the man that loved her. But it was not the time to bring that up.

"But it could be a really long time!" Goku protested. "I don't want the last thing I say to Bulma for, like, fifty years be…whatever the hell the last thing I said to her was!"

That was it for Gohan. With an angry huff, he spun on his heel, kept his arms crossed over his chest, stormed outside and slammed the door.

Goku blinked in genuine confusion. "What was that all about?" he wondered out loud.

Krillen just offered a single shoulder shrug. "He's been at the heart of this since the beginning," the short man reasoned. "He's had a lot of stress on him in the last couple of days, and he only got about an hour of sleep since…hell, I think it's his third day straight."

The Saiyan nodded along. "I guess you're right. He's a great kid, isn't he?"

"The best," his best friend agreed.

Goku smiled as he looked out the kitchen window. "I am really proud of him. He's just such an amazing young man."

Krillen nodded as he scooted back in his chair. "He really is."

After a minute of silence, Goku turned back to his friend. "Krillen, I know that you think that it's a bad idea, but Bulma is one of my best friends, and I just want to see her. Even if it's for just a minute, I really think it would help me."

The short man sighed. "What about Vegeta?"

"What do you mean, what about Vegeta?" the tall man questioned.

"He's not exactly taking visitors," Krillen pointed out. "In fact, according to Chi-Chi's calls, even the doctors are having a hell of a time getting in to see her. Hell, everything that she's told us has had to come second had from the doctors and the nurses. I don't think he's going to make an exception for you."

A soft voice cleared in the kitchen doorway, and the two men looked up to see an icy eyed blond. "I thought you guys might want to know that all three kids are down for the night," she coolly reported.

Her husband let out a tired sigh. "How was Trunks doing today?"

"Better than yesterday," she replied, her voice still completely neutral. "He didn't do much besides moping today, which personally I preferred over his massive temper tantrums. And before you ask, Goten spent a lot of the day playing with Marron, and they both tried to cheer him up every hour, on the hour."

Krillen nodded, getting up from his chair to hug his wife. "Thanks for keeping an eye on the kids today."

"Hn," was the only response she gave as she kissed him on top of his head.

Slowly, Gohan walked back in to the house and peered into the kitchen. "Hey, guys," he softly said, "if any of you want to visit Bulma, she should be available in about an hour."

Eighteen cocked an eyebrow at the teenager. "Available? As in, unguarded by her psychopathic other half?"

"Precisely," the boy said, slipping his cell phone in to his pocket. "Mom said she'd call us as soon as he drifted off." His eyes were completely empty as he turned to his father. "This means that you'll get a chance to say whatever you want to her." He paused for a moment before adding, "Though you may want to IT Vegeta out of there and back to Capsule Corp, just in case he wakes up sooner than expected."

Not another word was spoken between the four of them as the minutes ticked away. None of them could think of anything that really seemed appropriate to say, so they remained in total silence until the phone rang. Gohan answered, said precious few words, and hung up.

"I guess it's time."


	6. Chapter 6

Goku, Krillen, and Gohan appeared just outside of Bulma's room, looking at Chi-Chi's soft features. She went to each one of them, offering each a hug and a comforting smile. "Are you boys all okay?" she softly asked.

Gohan held his mother in a full embrace. "We're all okay, Mama," he gently answered. He pulled back and looked down at his mother's soft brown eyes. "How are you doing?"

Chi-Chi just waved off the question. "Oh, I'm fine." She pointed to the area he had been patiently waiting in for hours. "I thought that I might end up being here for a while, so I came prepared to set up camp. I balanced the checkbook, went over Goten's homework from last week, organized my recipe cards, did my daily Tai Chi, and knitted a blanket and two pairs of booties."

"Booties?" Krillen asked. "Chi-Chi, are you…"

"Oh, heavens no!" she dismissed with a laugh. "I think my baby making days are over."

Krillen took a moment to process what was being said before his eyes grew wide. He whipped to the side to look at Gohan. "Holy crap, did you get Videl…"

"NO!" Gohan cried, waving his hands defensively. "I swear, she's not!" The boy glared at his mother. "Somebody I know is just a little over eager to get some grandchildren."

Chi-Chi simply shrugged, putting on her best 'innocent' face.

"Grandchildren?" Krillen asked. "Chi-Chi, you're, what, thirty five?"

"Thirty seven," she corrected.

"Under forty," the short man emphasized. "Aren't you a little young to be desperate for grandchildren?"

As she responded with, "Not at all," her son growled, "YES!"

Chi-Chi glared at her son. "Oh, you hush up," she pouted. "I had you when I was your age, didn't I?"

"You were married when you were my age," Gohan countered. "I'm not even engaged yet!"

"Yes, why is that?" the mother asked, putting her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Gohan, I don't know what is taking you so long. Kami knows you've been with her long enough. It's been a year, honey. What on earth are you waiting for?"

Gohan cleared his throat. "Is this really the time or the place to discuss this?"

The mother couldn't help but agree. She quietly turned to her husband. "He's out like a light," she said, referring to the oft temperamental prince. "Dr. Briefs is waiting at Capsule Corp in one of the spare rooms, so you can use him as a locater."

Goku just nodded as he went in to the room, not bothering to look back at the others.

Krillen let out a low whistle. "Damn, Chi-Chi, you really took care of everything, didn't you?"

She smiled softly at the little man. "I'm good at staying organized, and everyone else had their own little jobs to do. You and Eighteen were taking care of the kids, Vegeta was keeping himself from exploding, Goku was having a breakdown, and Gohan was keeping the most powerful men in the universe under a watchful eye." Her smile faded slightly, and she turned her gaze away. "As horrible as this may sound, it's nice to actually be needed in a crisis."

Krillen winced a bit at that statement. It was no secret that in times of crisis, Chi-Chi was ditched in her little mountain home. Largely, it was because they feared her temper. To the rest of the gang, she was seen as more of an obstacle than an asset. The short man was ashamed to admit it, but he had never actually thought of how the poor woman might have been feeling during any of the challenges the group faced.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at his shoes.

Chi-Chi gave him a soft smile and a soft squeeze on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she assured. "Things happened, life went on, and now we must move forward."

Gohan gave his mother a questioning look. "When did _that_ become your mantra?"

"Oh, about fifty eight hours ago," she casually said. Her gaze turned toward the shut door that stood between them and the heiress. "I guess I finally realized that life is just too short to bear a grudge."

/\/\/\

On the other side of the door, Goku stood frozen in place. Never, in all his years, had he ever seen anything like what was laying before him.

Bulma didn't look any better than she had the last time he had seen her. If anything, she looked worse. Her injuries had been there long enough to fully bruise and swell up, and her beautiful hair was nowhere to be seen.

Laying on the side of the bed, with an arm protectively and gently wrapped around her, was the sleeping prince. He lay on his side, so he wouldn't take up much room, and his face was nestled in the crook of her neck.

Goku had never felt so moved in his life.

On the topic of moving, the tall Saiyan realized that there might be a slight problem with their plan of getting the prince back to Capsule Corp. With Vegeta wrapped protectively around his wife, there was no way to teleport just him away.

"Shit," he muttered. He could never feel comfortable talking to Bulma if Vegeta, even an unconscious Vegeta, was in the room. And even though he had been off the planet for seven years, even he knew that the prince was a ridiculously light sleeper. "How the hell am I supposed to get him away?"

He stood there for a few minutes, just wondering what the hell to do, when a thought struck him. He had come into the room, stared at the couple for a while, and even spoken out loud. Under normal circumstances, just _thinking_ about entering a room with Vegeta in it could wake that man up.

"Poor guy must really be out," Goku muttered to himself. "I guess he's been awake even longer than Gohan was." With a sad smile, he approached the bed.

He hesitated for a moment before daring to see if the prince truly was asleep. "Vegeta?" he softly asked, placing a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Vegeta, are you up?"

When the small man didn't respond more than a quiet murmur, Goku let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't entirely sure what he would have done if the prince had woken up from that. In fact, it could have been downright disasterous.

Goku gave the smaller man a sympathetic smile as he lifted him from the bed. "Come on, Vegeta," he softly said. "Let's give you a break."

The taller Saiyan adjusted his prince in his arms so he could free up his hand to get to his forehead. Quickly focusing on his target, he disappeared from the hospital.

/\/\/\

Gohan closed his eyes, a blank look on his face. "They just left," he calmly said. He opened his eyes and turned to his mother. "How, may I ask did you actually get Vegeta to fall asleep like that?"

The mother sent her son a mischievous smile. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that."

"Mom…"

"Nurse left his water unguarded for a second," she admitted, a coy look on her face. "She's been coming by ever hour, on the hour, to give him something to eat and drink. I'm not sure if he's actually eaten anything, but she kept bringing out empty water pitchers, so I knew he was drinking the water."

Krillen laughed softly. "How much did you put in?"

"A lot," she admitted. "And you all remember the deal: Goku doesn't know about the formula, and we're going to keep it that way."

The two men agreed enthusiastically. They both knew that the man couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Besides, he would never agree on any of them having access to that solution.

"How long do you think he'll be out?" Gohan asked his mother. "I mean, thinking about the amount that you gave him…"

"Two hour minimum," Chi-Chi interrupted. "Even the mightiest Saiyan would have a hell of a time waking up quickly from what I gave that man."

Gohan nodded. "Good," he thought out loud. "That should give us enough time to check on her, get as much out of our system as we can, and get Vegeta back without him ever knowing."

"Until, of course, your father tells him," Krillen pointed out.

Gohan simply shrugged his shoulders. "Well, by that point we'll have come up with a better plan. Either that, or we just let Vegeta take it all out on Dad and pretend that we had nothing to do with it."

/\/\/\

"Put him down here, my boy," Dr. Briefs said, pointing to the bed.

Goku did directly as he was told, gently laying the prince on the comfortable furniture. He kept his eyes locked on the sleeping form. It just was not within his abilities to look up at the moment. If he looked up, he would have to see Dr. Briefs, and that could lead to talking. At that moment, the Saiyan found the thought of talking to the good doctor to be completely impossible.

The two awake men only really had one common ground. Goku didn't understand any of the scientific wonders that the scientist filled his life with, and the doctor was equally flummoxed when pulled into a conversation about the finer details of fighting. On the rare occasion that they two did talk, they usually talked about Bulma.

"I'm glad that she has all of you there with her," Dr. Briefs quietly said. "I wish we could be there, but it's enough of a miracle that her condition hasn't been made public yet. If either her mother or I went down there…well, boy, it probably wouldn't turn out well."

Goku just stood there, continuing to stare at the prince and refusing to say a word.

"I hear that she's been holding stable," the doctor softly went on. "How was she doing when you last saw her?"

Goku suddenly felt like he was suffocating. How do you tell someone that their daughter, their _only child_, has been so mutilated that she isn't even recognizable? How do you tell someone about the burns, the breaks, and the bruising? How do you talk to them about the fact that they may want to get in a good-bye while they have the chance, because they may not have one in an hour?

How do you tell a person that someone they love isn't coming back?

"I have to go," Goku harshly croaked out, placing his fingers to his forehead.

The poor doctor didn't even have a chance to sputter before the Saiyan had disappeared.

/\/\/\

Goku appeared, once again, just outside of Bulma's hospital door. He had really wanted to go straight in to her room, and to not have to deal with his family. But Bulma's energy was so low that he couldn't sense it at all from her home. Again, he avoided looking at the others as he wordlessly went back into the room.

/\/\/\

Back inside the room, Goku leaned against the closed door. He still had a hard time believing that the battered creature in the bed before him was his oldest friend. It didn't look anything like her. It didn't even _smell_ anything like her anymore. She didn't even smell like a living person. She smelled of harsh chemicals and plastics.

"I can't do this," he whispered to himself. "I can't…"

Several minutes passed before he moved from his spot at the door. He wasn't sure what had finally compelled him to move further in to the hospital room. As he approached the bed slowly, he felt his eyes well up. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he gazed down at his friend.

"Kami, Bulma, is that really you?" he asked, his voice cracking with every word.

She didn't respond at all, and while Goku hadn't really expected her to, he was still disappointed.

"How did you even get here?" he asked. He grabbed one of the hard plastic chairs and sat down by her side. "Was there something wrong with your car? Did someone run you off the road? Were you putting on your make-up and you just not see the giant cliff that was in front of you?"

For the first time since the accident, Goku felt anger rise up in his chest. "Is that why it happened, Bulma? Because you were too busy looking at yourself in the mirror to drive slowly? I don't know why that surprises me. You never drive carefully! You just want to go fast and have fun, don't you? Well, you shouldn't have done that! Damn it, Bulma, you can't be so damn reckless with your life! We need you, Bulma! You can't just leave us for something like this!"

The pure blooded Saiyan shot to his feet, knocking the chair over. "I mean, do you have any idea what we've been going through because you were so careless? Do you have any idea how hard it'll be on us if you die from this? Kami above, what the hell are Trunks and Vegeta going to do without you? How would they react if you don't make it?" By this point, the large man was yelling. "Damn it, Bulma, what the hell…"

"Dad!" a voice called out as Goku felt someone grab his shoulder.

Still worked up, Goku whipped around to see his wide eyed son standing right behind him. "What are you doing in here, Gohan?" he asked, his pulse still racing.

"We heard you yelling," Chi-Chi softly said, standing away from the two men. "We wanted to make sure that you were okay."

Goku blinked twice as he regained control of his senses. Gohan was still holding on to his shoulder, and he looked like he was getting ready to stand his ground. Chi-Chi stood halfway between them and the door, a worried look on her face. And Krillen was poking his head into the room, looking in on the whole situation with wide eyes.

"Sorry," he softly said, lowering his eyes. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay, honey," Chi-Chi said, stepping up to her husband. "Did something happen?"

The Saiyan shook his head. "I don't know. I was just thinking about what might have happened before the accident, and how it might have been caused by her being reckless, and…I don't know, I guess I just got mad that someone could possibly throw away their life like that."

Krillen glanced at the family in the room and, sensing a serious family moment, decided to leave. "I'll go ask the doctors if they know anything new," he softly said as he left.

Gohan, in the meantime, had let his hand slide from his father's shoulder. "Why would you think that this is her fault?" he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Goku shook his head again. "I know this is going to sound like a horrible thing, but Bulma's never really been a safe driver, you know? She always goes way too fast, and she's always sure that her car can handle anything. I guess…I guess I thought that this probably happened because she was thinking more about having an adventure than she was about her safety."

His son took a step away, a hurt look on his face. Chi-Chi stepped between father and son, keeping her eyes locked on her husband. "I know that this is hard for you, Goku," she said, "but now is not the time to be placing blame. Even if this was caused by a little bit of recklessness, getting mad at her isn't going to fix anything." She lowered her eyes and stared at her hands before whispering, "It never fixed anything."

"You weren't there!" Goku shot back. "You weren't there when she was first hurt! You weren't there when Trunks looked at her! You weren't there when Dr. Briefs wanted to know how she was! How was I supposed to answer that, Chi-Chi? How do you tell someone that their _family_ is on the brink of death?"

"You pray like hell that they take it well, then spend the next few years feeling guilty and awkward like you were the one that killed them," Gohan muttered, stepping back again.

Again, Goku blinked in surprise. "Gohan, what are you talking about?" asked Goku.

Gohan growled slightly, sick of holding in his feelings. "What?" he snapped. "I've done this before, remember? I got to tell Mom that _you_ weren't coming back, and that it was _you're choice!_" The teenager took two strides forward, getting nose to nose with his father. "So before you get on this self-pity trip of yours and bitch to us about how _hard_ this is, knowing that someone you care about _might_ have done something _accidentally_ that _could_ have caused her to _possibly_ die, why don't you think about what _we_ went through when you _chose_ to die, and then _refused_ to come back?!?"

Goku wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment, but he knew he didn't like it. "That was different, Gohan…"

"You're right," Gohan shouted back, "because you had a _choice!_"

"Gohan," Chi-Chi interrupted, placing her hand on his chest, "let's not get into this right…"

"There's nothing to get in to!" Goku countered. "I left because I thought it was the best thing for…"

"FOR YOU!" Gohan yelled. "You couldn't have seriously thought…"

"I did too seriously think!" Goku shot back. "All the bad guys we fought were coming after me!"

Chi-Chi turned to face her husband. "Well, actually, that's not quite…"

"Oh, yeah, Buu was really aiming for _you_," Gohan sneered. "That's why Bobbiti was so caught off guard by us. Because he was _expecting_ us."

"Now, Gohan," Chi-Chi tried to explain, "if you would just calm down…"

"How was I supposed to know that Buu was coming?" Goku argued. "_None_ of us knew about him!"

"Exactly!" Gohan shouted. "You never _know_ what's going to happen! You just _assumed_ that _everything_ was about _you!_"

"That's it!" Chi-Chi screamed, forcing her way between the two of them. "Gohan, it is not alright to speak to your father in such a tone, and Goku, you need to get off Gohan's back! Both of you just need to _shut the hell up!"_

Krillen, having heard the shouting from down the hall, poked his head inside the doorway. "Um, guys, is everything…"

All three Sons whipped around and glared at the former monk, fire burning in all six dark eyes.

"Okay, just checking!" the short man defended. "It's just…do you think your 'family issues' could wait until you get home? You know, out of respect for…" He tilted his chin, indicating the brutalized body in the bed.

The fire disappeared faster than it had come as all three of them suddenly became aware of their surroundings again.

"Oh, Kami," Chi-Chi whispered, placing her hand on her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Goku stared at the floor, and grabbed his wrist. "Me too," he softly said.

"So am I," Gohan whispered, turning back to look at Bulma.

Krillen fully entered the room, and for a full five minutes, no one said a word. They just stared down at the body, lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, Gohan's head shot up. "What was that?" he asked apprehensively.

"What?" all three of the others asked simultaneously.

Gohan put his hand up, indicating that he wanted them to be quiet. A few seconds passed before a hint of a smile appeared on his face. "That!"

None of the other occupants of the room knew what he was talking about. The teenager rolled his eyes and pointed at one of the monitors. "Keep your eyes on this!" he enthusiastically said. The four of them waited, not speaking, not moving, not even breathing, for something to happen. Suddenly, there was a blip on the monitor.

"What does that mean?" Chi-Chi asked, clutching on to her husband's arm.

Gohan grinned from ear to ear as he looked down at Bulma's face. Just barely, he could see her eyelids twitching.

"She's waking up!"


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Thank you, all of you, for your wonderful reviews. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a review whore. What can I say? I like knowing that you guys are reading this and enjoying this. The constructive criticism is also welcomed with a warm heart; if no one points out my mistakes, I'll never get any better. Thank you all so, so much!

On a slightly more relevant note, I had issues deciding where to make the cut in this chapter. While, much like Chapter 4, I think that it could have had more emotional pull if I cut it off earlier than I did, the remaining part wasn't full enough for me to feel comfortable posting it as a full chapter. Please, let me know your opinions. If you think I made the wrong decision, I can easily go back and re-post with the cut.

Thanks guys!

/\/\/\

"She's waking up," the teenager repeated, his voice soft but excited. "She's waking up!"

"What do we do?" Chi-Chi asked.

"I'll go find her doctor," Gohan said, grinning from ear to ear as he tore out of the room.

Krillen, Goku, and Chi-Chi hovered around the bed, smiling with anticipation as they watched the heiress stir. Slowly, Bulma's radiant blue eyes fluttered open.

"Oh, thank Kami, she's awake!" Chi-Chi exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She leaned directly over the heiress, smiling brilliantly. "Oh, honey, you're okay! You're really okay!"

Bulma blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus. She could clearly and easily make out Chi-Chi's enthusiastic, albeit shrill, voice. The dark haired woman seemed more than a bit blurry to her, though. She tried to say so, but realized that she couldn't.

The heiress began to panic. She quickly realized that she couldn't mover her mouth at all, and if felt as though something was blocking her entire oral cavity. In a panic, she began to thrash, trying to pull her arms up to yank out whatever it was that was blocking her mouth.

"Whoah, Bulma!" Goku softly said, gently pushing his friend back against her bed. "You need to take it easy!"

When Bulma gave her friends a frantic look, Chi-Chi gave her a sad smile. "You have a breathing tube in, honey. You can't talk right now."

Bulma's eyes grew wide. Breathing tube? Why would she possibly have a breathing tube in her? It was at that moment that Bulma realized that she was lying in a dimly lit hospital room.

Her terrified look was replaced by one of confusion. She began tapping her right hand against the bed. Her friends noticed the movement, but they weren't sure what to make of it. The heiress rolled her eyes. She moved her fingers so that the thumb, index finger, and middle finger were all together, and she moved her wrist in a flowing motion.

"Oh!" Chi-Chi cried, reaching in to her purse. "She wants something to write with!" The younger mother pulled a pen and a pad of paper out of her bag. "Here you go, honey," she said, gently guiding the pen into the heiress' hand.

Bulma tried to grab the pen, but she struggled to hold the narrow object. She tried again and again, to get a good grip on it, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not do it.

Chi-Chi gave the woman a sympathetic look. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she dropped the pen. "Wait right here!" she exclaimed, dashing out of the room.

_Right, because I'm really a high risk for running away right now,_ Bulma thought, rolling her eyes.

The younger woman appeared again a few seconds later, brandishing a small whiteboard and an erasable blue marker. "I brought Goten's entire book bag with me," she stated, placing the whiteboard on the bed. "I almost forgot that I make him practice his math on this!" Chi-Chi took the noticeably thicker marker and guided it into Bulma's hand.

Bulma managed to wrap her fingers around the marker and, shakily, scrawled out: HOW?:

"You were in a car accident," Krillen softly said. "A pretty bad one. But don't worry, Bulma, the senzu plant should have beans on it in another couple of weeks, and then you'll be better than new!"

Bulma shook her head lightly, dismayed at the lack of mobility she had. :NO: she wrote. :HOW WE GET OFF NAMEK?:

"Namek?" Goku asked, blinking with surprise. "Bulma, Namek was a long time ago."

It was then that Gohan returned, practically dragging Bulma's doctor in behind him. "I found him!" he said, pushing the physician into the room.

Bulma was thoroughly confused. She tapped on the whiteboard, signaling that she wanted it cleared off, before writing :WHO?:

"This is Dr. Oberman," Gohan softly explained. "He's going to be your private physician while you're resting in here."

:NO: she wrote. :YOU. WHO?:

Gohan raised an eyebrow at the woman. "Me? Bulma, it's me, Gohan," he gently said. Bulma's eyes grew wide, and she began to violently shake her head from side to side. Her body began to jerk, and her eyes rolled up in her head.

"What's happening?" Goku asked, his fear evident in his voice.

"She's having a seizure," the doctor calmly replied, getting between his patent and her friends. He injected something into her IV tubing. As he called for backup, he spared the family a quick glance. "She's going to be okay," he assured, "but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Now."

The four friends just quietly backed out of the room, fighting to tear their eyes away from their friend's spasming form. They stood in the hallway, watching silently as nurses and other doctors rushed in and out of the room. After twenty minutes, they sat down in the waiting room chairs. None of them spoke a word as the minutes turned in to hours, until finally, Dr. Oberman came out, a serious look on his face. All four of them jumped up and rushed to him, asking how their friend was.

"Ms. Briefs is going to be fine," he assured up front. "However, it would appear that she is suffering from some memory loss. "It technically is categorized as trauma induced memory loss, but at this moment I'm afraid I can't narrow it down any more. Whether is was caused by the emotional stress of the accident, or the physical damage that her skull took when it hit the steering wheel is yet to be seen."

"She has amnesia?" Gohan worriedly asked.

The doctor nodded. "Her last memories appear to involve something called Namek," he went on. "As I do not know what that is, I was hoping that you might be able to assist me. Do you have any idea what that is in reference to? How long ago that was?"

All four had to stop and think for a moment. "It was a place that we went to," Gohan finally answered, "between eleven and twelve years ago."

Again, the doctor nodded solemnly. "I see." He gestured toward the seats, asking the group to follow him. When everyone had gotten situated, the doctor removed his glasses and began to clean them on his shirt.

"There is good news, and there is bad news," Dr. Oberman said, refusing to meet their gaze. "The good news is that, with a lot of hard work and the proper therapy, she should be able to make a full and complete physical recovery. Her hearing hasn't been fazed at all, and while her vision is a little blurry at the moment, we have every reason to believe that it's going to clear up in a matter of days. And the majority of her long term memory, from what we have been able to determine, remains intact."

"Except for the last twelve years," Krillen pointed out, more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Dr. Oberman placed his glasses back on his face and finally looked up at the group. "With trauma induced amnesia, particularly to this extent, discovering something that the individual would find severely out of place, a physical reaction, just as the one you witnessed, may occur." He turned to the teenager, a gently look on his face. "I'm willing to bet that twelve years ago, you were just a little boy. Seeing you as a full grown man must have been a shock for her."

"I know it was for me," Goku whispered, placing a hand on his firstborn's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Gohan spared his father a soft smile and brought his own hand to rest on his father's.

The doctor gave the father and son a confused look, but knew he had to go on. "The point is, anything that Ms. Briefs would see as severely out of place should, how shall I say this…" He bit down on his lip, keeping his eye on Chi-Chi. "She needs to _slowly_ be introduced into what happened in the last few years. She knows that she has lost some of her memory. That shock caused her last seizure. However, having communicated with her, she has come to terms with it now." Dr. Oberman kept his eyes glued on Chi-Chi. He wasn't sure why, but it was always easier to talk to women about these things than the men.

"Twelve years is a lot of time," the doctor went on. "What I need you to do is make a list of things that have happened, between then and now, that would have shocked her emotionally twelve years ago. Then I need you to inform the rest of her family and friends that they need to avoid those topics, at least until she gets a fair way in to her therapy. In time, we may be able to bring her back up to speed on everything, but to be blunt, it could take years. Until further notice, I'm afraid that she is at risk for severe physical distress, including cardiac arrest. Do you understand?"

Chi-Chi nodded, reaching once again for the pen and paper that she had pulled out earlier. "Yes, of course," she softly said. "Thank you, doctor. Is there anything else we need to know right now, doctor?"

Dr. Oberman shook his head. "I'll keep you posted," he assured, getting to his feet. "When you are done with this, I recommend that you all get some rest. You've earned it."

When the doctor left, Chi-Chi removed the top from her pen. "Okay, things that would have broken Bulma's brain twelve years ago," she said, scrawling the same thing across the top of the pad. "Let's start from the top."

"She's bald," Krillen said. When the other's stared at him, Krillen waved his hands defensively. "Hey, this is Bulma we're talking about! What's the first thing that woman's going to think about?"

"Her hair," Chi-Chi admitted, writing that down. "But I think that one might be unavoidable. She's going to see a mirror at some point between now and when her hair is shoulder length like it was for Namek."

Krillen shrugged. "I thought it would help," he quietly said.

"I'm sure it will," Chi-Chi softly responded, smiling at the short man. "Okay, what else?"

"She's the president of the company," Gohan added. "Twelve years ago, she was just the VP. That's why she had enough time to go on the trip."

Krillen's head shot up. "Oh! Her room is different! We should change it back!"

Chi-Chi looked up from her pad. "Different how?" she asked.

"It used to have a lot of pink tone is it," Krillen answered. "She had pink curtains, pink bedspread, a light pink dresser…it was a girly girl kind of room. I remember because she sent me up to her room, like, five times for crap she wanted to take to Namek. Every time I went in there, all I could think of was 'holy crap, that is a lot of pink'."

"I take it her room no longer looks that way?" the woman asked.

Gohan sat up, all of the color draining from his face. "Oh, Kami, no…"

The three others turned to him. "What is it, honey?" Chi-Chi asked.

Tears began to roll down the teenager's cheeks. "Vegeta," he whispered. "Twelve years ago, the only thing she felt for him was fear. The room changed ten years ago when he moved in to it."

"Kami above," Goku whispered. "That can't mean what I think that means…"

Krillen buried his face in his hands. "No, no, no, no…"

Gohan nodded, a choked sob leaving his throat. "We have to remove any evidence of her new family," he whispered, crying softly. "We have to move Vegeta, _and Trunks_, out of her world."

/\/\/\

Dr. Briefs hung up the phone, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He wasn't sure which phone call would have been worse: the phone call saying that she was dead, or the phone call that he ended up getting.

Breaking up his family was going to be the worst thing he would ever have to do.

The good doctor walked back up the stairs to the guest room his son-in-law lay in. He walked three steps in before pausing, staring at the man's unconscious form. "Oh, my dear boy, how did this ever come to be?" he whispered. He approached the bed and sat down, staring at the other man's sleeping features. "You've come so far," the doctor went on. "I remember very clearly how you were when my Bulma brought you home with her. You were wild and unpredictable. Don't get me wrong, dear boy, we still enjoyed your rather unique presence back then."

The elderly man chuckled to himself. "You certainly had a way about you back then, young man," he laughed. "You were boisterous and loud, and you were more than a force to be reckoned with. But so was my dear Bulma." Another laugh sounded in the room. "I remember the first time I watched the two of you together like it was just the other day. She had just finished putting the finishing touches on that first gravity room you had used."

"Ah, she was so proud of that thing. And she never hid that for a moment. She has always been like that, you know. For every piece of work she had ever done, she wanted heaps of praise. Don't misunderstand me, she usually earned it, but it was such an addiction of hers. Everything that girl did got her more and more love and adoration. And then you came along. I could tell that you were impressed, but you never gave her verbal praise. Then she tried to pry it out of you, and you just pushed back harder." Dr. Briefs laughed loudly at the memory. "Neither of you got anything accomplished for the rest of the day. You just argued and argued and argued. And by the time you both stormed off, I could tell that there was something special there."

He shook his head, scratching his kitty behind his ears. "You two have been good for each other," he went on. "You've both matured quite a bit without ever giving up who you are. Personally, I think both of you just have too much fight in you to be happy with anyone else. You need someone who you can fight with, and can fight right back with you. You both play this intellectual tug of war game that's been going on for a decade."

Dr. Briefs sighed as he continued to scratch the kitty. "You're not going to take this well, will you, dear boy?" he asked the unconscious man. The doctor got to his feet, shaking his head again. "I'll be packing your things," he quietly said, placing a censor on Vegeta's wrist. "This will let me know when you're getting ready to wake up. I can only hope that you will be able to listen calmly when you find out."

Sadly, the doctor got up and went for the door. He paused for a moment, sparing the sleeping man one last look.

"I'm sorry for your loss, son."

/\/\/\

Eighteen hung up her phone, her face void of all emotion. "That was Krillen," she neutrally reported, turning to the only other person in the room.

"And?!?" Yamcha demanded, ready to pull his hair out. "Did something happen? Is she okay? Is she going to make it? Is she even alive? What happened, Eighteen, what?!?"

The blonde gave the scarred human a withering glare. "Will you calm yourself, or do I need to subdue you, too?" the calmly threatened.

Yamcha slammed his lips together and sat in a kitchen chair, folding his hands in his lap. He didn't want to risk doing anything that would keep information about Bulma from reaching him.

Eighteen gave him a brief, affirming nod. Knowing that the man was at least somewhat controlled, she went on. "Bulma woke up," she coolly said. "She's still a little out of it, and she's not able to speak at the moment because her throat is raw from where her breathing tube used to be, but she has regained consciousness and is expected to easily make it until one of those damn beans has ripened enough to fix her injuries."

The human's eyes lit up. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and clamped his mouth shut again upon receiving the blonde's glare. Silently, he indicated that he wished for her to go on.

"It seems that she's got amnesia," the woman went on. "Not total memory loss, but enough to block out the last twelve years. Apparently, the last thing she remembers is being on Namek, and we're not supposed to say anything about anything that's happened between then and now. If she deliberately asks a question, then she should handle the answer alright, as long as it isn't too shocking to hear. But we're not supposed to supply her with any information on our own."

The former bandit lowered his head slightly as he tried to do the calculations. "Namek?" he asked. "That was, what, fifteen years ago?"

"Twelve," the blonde retorted as she rolled her eyes. "Damn, you're ignorant. You should know that better than I do." She pulled out a chair for herself and sat before she casually continued. "What it means, genius, is that if she asks, you can tell her that you two broke up, since that's hardly news to her. But you can't tell her that she and Vegeta are together."

Yamcha's head shot up, his eyes opened up wide. "She doesn't know…"

"Don't even start thinking about it," Eighteen snapped, her voice dripping with threat. "It is true that she does not remember being with Vegeta. It is also true, Yamcha, that she cannot be told about her relationship with him because it would be too much of a shock to her system. But before you start celebrating and thinking that this is the gods way of giving you another chance with her, you need to think about this: they are a family, Yamcha."

"Hardly," Yamcha snorted.

Eighteen closed her eyes and tried to take a calming breath before she went on. "Look, I hate Vegeta almost as much as you do. He's an asshole. But even I would never wish this upon him."

When Yamcha muttered, "I would," under his breath, Eighteen lunged across the table and slugged the man in the jaw.

"What the hell, Eighteen?!?" Yamcha shouted, cupping his jaw and spitting out blood.

The blonde marched over to the human, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him against the wall. "Listen to me, you son of a bitch," she coolly spoke, "whether you want to acknowledge it or not, Bulma, Vegeta, _and Trunks_, are a family. They have been for years. Now, I don't know the specifics of what you and Bulma went through when you were in your relationship. I don't know if she cheated on you, or you cheated on her, or you both cheated on each other, or if you broke up on good terms. I don't know if she got with Vegeta out of love, out of lust, out of boredom…hell, for all I know, he was a revenge lay that got out of hand. But this is what I do know: when the sun rises tomorrow, and those three children wake up, I get to tell a nine year old boy that he no longer gets to call his mother "Mom", that his parents are no longer together, and that he no longer has a home. So if you think your little pity party about however your relationship ended with her is going to make me care at all, you are sorely mistaken."

Slowly, Eighteen loosened her grip. "You got your information, Yamcha," she said with ice in her voice. "Go home. Now."

Yamcha rubbed his jaw again, looking at Eighteen's back. As he headed for the door, he stopped.

"I'm sorry," he quietly said. "It was a moment of weakness when I thought…what I thought. I…I just want you to know that I would never do anything to make this situation worse. I would never try to seduce Bulma like this. She has a family that loves her, and my inability to get over the past doesn't give me the right to try to keep them apart."

Eighteen turned slightly to look at him, offering him a single not, before heading into the living room.

Yamcha quietly walked out of the house, took to the sky, and tried to fully process everything that had happened.

Nothing was going to be the same.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thank you, all of you, for your support!

To clarify, because Bulma is not able to talk (momentarily), her communication has to be written. I have chosen to display it as :WORDS GO HERE: because I thought it was, well, let's just say that in my own strange mind it makes perfect sense.

/\/\/\

Bulma groaned softly as she woke up. Her vision was still a little blurry, and it took her a moment to remember where she was and what had happened, but after a deep breath she relaxed. She glanced to her right, and her eyes widened when they locked on to Krillen.

She opened her mouth to talk, but immediately began coughing. "Whoah, Bulma!" Krillen cautioned as he rushed to her side. "Relax! Your breathing tube only came out a few hours ago, and the doctor told us that it was going to leave your throat too raw to talk for a while! But don't worry, Chi-Chi left the whiteboard. Now, what do you need?"

As her coughing subsided, Bulma grabbed on to the pen on the side table. :YOU HAVE HAIR!:

Krillen blinked in surprise, reading the words over and over again before he finally burst out laughing. "Yeah," he chuckled. "I grew it out a few years ago. I don't look as badass as I used to, but what the hell."

Bulma smiled at him. :LOOKS GOOD. LADIES MUST LOVE IT:

The small fighter laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Well, at least one does." He paused for a moment, considering something. "Actually, two!"

The heiress looked curious as she wiped off the board. It was not an easy task, given that only one of her arms had any real mobility, but even in her battered state she didn't want to have to rely on someone else for something so small. :TWO WOMEN?:

Krillen turned beet red. "No, not like that!" he defended. "Family! They're family!"

Bulma's expression changed slightly. She knew that Krillen didn't have any siblings, and that he had no knowledge of his parents. That didn't leave a lot of options for what family there could be. :YOU MARRIED?:

The former monk blinked in surprise again. "Wow, I didn't think you'd figure it out so fast. You always seemed to think that the mere concept of me having a _girlfriend_ was too far fetched to be real, let alone me having a wife. But yes, I am married."

The scientist smiled softly at her long time friend. :KIDS?:

"One," he beamed. "Six year old daughter who's as beautiful as her mother is."

:PICTURES?:

Krillen enthusiastically nodded as he reached in to his wallet. "Yeah, dozens of them!" he exclaimed as he whipped it open and a dozen pictures flipped down. "That's my girl!"

The two slowly went through picture after picture of an adorable blonde child. She was a child of many interests. There were pictures of her playing in the sand, swamped in adult clothing as she played dress up, read through a stack of books, stirred cookie dough while standing on a step stool to reach the table, brushed her dolls hair, chased a butterfly, danced in a tutu, dribbled a soccer ball, jumped down four steps, tried to catch popcorn in her mouth, watched TV, and seemed to win a checkers game against a very familiar child.

When they got to that final picture, Bulma narrowed her eyes as she got her whiteboard. :WHY IS GOKU A KID?:

Krillen wasn't sure what she was talking about, and had to give it a second look. "Oh, that's not Goku," he clarified. "That's Goten."

Bulma's eyes lit up. :HAD ANOTHER SON!: she reasoned with a smile.

"Yeah!" Krillen replied, his eyes just as bright. _Wow, this is fantastic! She's able to figure so much of this out on her own, and she's taking it so well, that we might not even have much of a problem!_ "Goten's eight years old now. He's such a Goku clone. I mean, everyone and their uncle can tell that they look identical, but they act the same way, too! They both have that naïve spirit. They're both so nice to _everyone_, and they both eat like vacuum cleaners. I mean, yeah, Gohan eats just as much as they do, but most of his food goes _in_ his mouth, not on it. Also, while he'll play any game with anyone, he doesn't always get it and he loses the first few rounds of everything, he's always a good sport."

Bulma smiled at her friend. :SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD KID:

"He is," Krillen answered.

The two sat in silence for a moment before Bulma decided to ask more questions. :WHY ARE YOU THE ONE HERE?:

The former monk smiled softly at her. "We wanted to make sure that at least one of us was around when you woke up from your nap. You've had a hell of a last few days, and we thought it would suck if you didn't have a good buddy nearby to look after you. I mean, yeah, sure, the doctors and the nurses are here to take care of you, technically, but they can't taunt you about things like the time you accidentally flashed Roshi because you didn't know that Goku had taken off your panties, so where's the love?"

Bulma chuckled softly, but it made her cough for a bit. After she had a moment to calm down, she couldn't help but ask :YOU GOT FIRST SHIFT?:

Krillen just nodded as he folded his pictures back in to his wallet. "Yeah, the others spent a lot of time looking over you while you were out, and I was at home with the kids. Goku and his family are back at their place getting some rest, and my wife is looking over the little hell raisers, so I'm here with you. I got the fun job!"

The heiress smiled back at her friend. :I DO ROCK, DON'T I?:

"Yes you do," Krillen agreed. "Yes, you do."

Bulma squirmed slightly before bringing up a subject that had been on her mind since she had figured out where she was. :IS YAMCHA ALIVE?:

Krillen could feel the sweat forming on the back of his neck. He'd had several hours to think about what Bulma likely could and could not remember, and a lot of his time had been occupied with what to say when the heiress brought up the ex that she didn't know was an ex. "Yeah," he slowly began, "we brought him back to life right after we got back from Namek."

The battered woman's eyes lit up. :WHERE IS HE?:

"The last time I saw him, he was in my living room having an emotional breakdown because you weren't doing well," he honestly answered. _Crap, why did I say it like that?!? _ he thought. _I could have just told her that he was worried about her like the rest of were? Why the hell did I tell her that he was having an emotional breakdown because he was so worried about her? Aargh! I just ruined everything! Now she's gonna ask about her relationship with him!_

Just as predicted, Bulma's next question was :ARE WE TOGETHER?:

When Krillen didn't answer right away, Bulma just smiled sadly. :FIGURED 50/50 CHANCE. WE BREAK UP ALL THE TIME:

"Oh, thank the gods!" Krillen said with a grateful sigh, slumping forward in his hair. "I was so worried that I was going to have to tell you, and that you…wouldn't take it well." Again, his eyes grew wide as he waved his hands defensively. "Not that I thought that you can't handle things! It's just that, well, no one takes news of a break up well, and the stories the two of you would tell sounded like you had an epic battle every time it happened and…and I'm babbling and really need to learn how to shut up!"

Bulma smiled at him again. :CHILL: she wrote. :ALREADY FIGURED IT OUT: Her eyelids began to droop, and the pen slipped out of her hand. She tried to say something again, but she was too weak to even make a real effort. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before closing completely. Within moments, the heiress was completely asleep again.

Krillen nodded slightly as he wrung his hands together. "Okay, okay, I think that, all things considered, that went pretty well." He slouched down in his chair and sighed. "So far, so good."

/\/\/\

Gohan sat on his bed and stared at the stars in the night sky. He knew that he really needed to get some rest, but he just could not relax enough to sleep for more than a few minutes at the time. He knew that all of their lives were about to change radically, and all of the things that could possibly go wrong kept playing through his head again and again and again. Even though he was still one of the youngest members of the group, he knew that a lot of the problems ended up as his to solve.

_Will we really be able to hide her old life from her?_ he wondered. _How can we ensure that none of us accidentally bring something up? How can we make sure that no one outside of the group brings anything up? She's going to go to board meetings with people who know she has a son. How do we make sure they don't say anything about that to her? Oh, hell, what do we even do about Trunks and Vegeta? How are they going to deal with this? They're going to have to move out of Capsule Corp. They're going to have to start new lives. How are we going to explain that Vegeta has a son, but that none of us can tell her anything about his mother? How are we going to keep Trunks from doing something irrational and go running to his mother? Hell, Goten's got the biggest mouth in the group and he doesn't know how to keep a secret! How do we shut him up?_

The teenager sighed and lowered his head, leaning against his window. "What the hell are we going to do?" he whispered. The window felt cool on his forehead, and he relished the feeling. It was only a mild comfort to him, but at that moment, any comfort was more than welcome. "I have got to get some sleep," he muttered, placing his palm on the window. "Maybe if I could get a few hours of rest, I could think clearly."

He groaned slightly as he pushed away from his window. "Sleep, sleep, sleep," he repeated, hoping that if he said it enough, it might actually happen. The teenager flopped loosely on to his bed, dropping like dead weight and bouncing twice from the impact. "Sleep," he commanded himself as he slammed his eyes shut. "Damn it, Gohan, sleep!" he hissed. He draped his arm over his eyes as he growled to himself. "You can't think clearly if you're sleep deprived, and it's been days since you got any real rest. Now just let it all go and be asleep!"

"Tell yourself that all you want, it won't help you at all."

Gohan sat bolt upright in his bed with ki forming in his hand, though it quickly dissipated. "Geez, Mom, you scared me to death!"

"Not true," Chi-Chi countered as she walked all the way in to the room. "If I had scared you to death, then you would not have been able to say that to me, now would you?"

The teenager wiped the sweat from his brow as he scoot back on his bed, his back resting against the wall. "You know, for a woman whose reputation and known behavioral patterns all suggest that she's prone to hysteria and overreacting, you just took my reaction to you a little too calmly."

His mother shrugged as she sat down on the edge of his bed. "I said this earlier, but I can't remember if you were there when I said it. This whole experience was a real eye opener for me. We have no idea what is going to happen to us on any given day. We don't know when what precious things we have could be taken away. While I was waiting at the hospital for any news on Bulma, I had more than enough time to really think about life. I know that I scream and cry over every little thing. It's always been how I've handled things, ever since I was a little girl."

She pushed herself back, leaning against the wall next to her eldest child. "I've always been worried about what the future held, and you know that. I worry about if we're going to have enough money to pay our bills. I worry about whether or not I'm going to have enough food to feed three Saiyans. I worry about what would happen to you and your brother if, like your father, you don't learn any real world skills. I worry about whether or not I've saved up enough money to pay for your college tuition. I worry about whether or not I'm going to get grandchildren while I'm young enough to really enjoy them. I worry about how much the kids at school used to pick on you. I worry about whether I'll actually manage to teach Goten academics well enough for him to succeed. But mostly, I worry about my sons."

Chi-Chi reached out and cupped her son's cheek. "Worry never fixes anything, though. Everything I ever worried about didn't get better because of worry. It got taken care of because of work. Hard work, sometimes, but work nonetheless. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that all of that worrying I did not only didn't help, but that it was actually slowing me down and making it so I couldn't work on my problems. And that just made things worse."

Gohan smiled down at his mother. "Life lesson time?"

"All time is life lesson time," Chi-Chi calmly responded. "Though some are better than others. The point is, I wasted countless hours of my life by just staring off into the distance, worrying about the future. And if I catch you losing what little is left of your childhood by making my mistakes, you will be grounded for a week. Have I made myself clear?"

Gohan chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, I get your point, Mom. I'll try to stop worrying so much."

"See that you do," she said, hopping off the bed and getting on to her feet. "Oh, and Gohan?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever charge up a ki blast at me again, you're grounded for two weeks."

/\/\/\

Dr. Briefs slid the final capsule into the case. It had taken a few hours and quite a bit of help, but he had managed to pack up all pieces of evidence of Vegeta's life at Capsule Corp. He was sad to do it, but he knew he had to.

He was far more hesitant with his grandson's things. Trunks' room still looked the same it had on the day of the accident, but the good doctor was not in as much of a hurry to clean that out. All of the boy's pictures, papers, and projects had been removed from all the other rooms in the house, and there was no reason for Bulma to venture in to what, as far as she knew, was just another guest room.

Moving that boy out was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done. For nine years, that child had been the life of their home. The old man wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen without that boy running through the halls and asking a thousand questions a day, but he knew that it would not be nearly as cheerful. And he didn't even want to begin thinking about how the boy was going to take it.

Dr. Briefs' watch made a small beeping noise. "Damn," he muttered, running from the room. He sprinted up the stairs to the guest room that held his son in law. "Oh, this isn't going to bed good…"

Vegeta's energy level was skyrocketing, and his eyelids began to flutter. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up straight, a panicked look on his face. "Bulma?" he asked, looking around his environment.

"Vegeta, you need to listen to me," the doctor calmly began. "Bulma's still in the hos…"

That was as far as the poor old man made it before his son in law disappeared in a brilliant gold flash.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of your wonderful support! I'm sorry that it's taken so long to update. Holiday's are notoriously nuts. As an attempt to make it up to you, I am (attempting) to get a new chapter up to each of my stories in the next two days.

And wow! A hundred reviews in under ten chapters! I never would have thought that as possible. Your support means the world to me!

/\/\/\

Gohan's head snapped to the side as he felt the energy spike. "Oh, shit!" he yelled, jumping through the window and taking off into the night sky. The teenager flew as hard and as fast as he could, keeping his attention focused only on the prince's wild energy. As soon as he saw the barest hint of golden light, Gohan dug deep down within himself and drew out of what little energy he had in reserve.

Vegeta saw Gohan clearly, but he wasn't going to let the boy slow him down. The prince refused to veer from his path, and if the hybrid was going to put himself in the line of fire, then it was the boy's own damn fault.

The two slammed together at super sonic speeds. Vegeta kept his force moving forward, determined not to be slowed down. Gohan pulled slightly to the side, grappling his arms around the senior warrior. The change in propulsion caused them to fly deep into the side of a mountain.

The prince snarled wildly as he tried to get back up. "I'll kill you if you don't let me go this instant, boy!" he shouted.

But Gohan would not let go. "Vegeta, you need to stop," he said as calmly as he could. The teenager grunted as he felt an elbow fly fiercely into his side, but he held on tight. "You need to listen to me!"

"You need to let me go!" he screamed. Vegeta jerked to the side violently and swung his leg straight behind him, nailing Gohan in the groin. It was a low, cheap shot, one he would never use in a real battle, but he didn't have time to deal with honor in battle. He wasn't there to fight. He had to get to his wife.

Gohan hissed as he let go. Even through his squinted eyes, he could see the prince disappear in a brilliant golden flash.

Vegeta didn't get too far before Goku and Piccolo simultaneously slammed into him and pinned him to the ground.

"Stop it, Vegeta!" Goku shouted, keeping himself at level two as he held on tight to the thrashing prince. "Vegeta, _stop!_"

But the prince would not listen to the larger man. All he knew was that his wife was in the hospital, that he had no idea if she would ever be okay, and that he had to see her. Immediately.

Gohan staggered to his feet and joined the fray. With Vegeta worked up as much as he was, even the combined efforts of Goku and Piccolo were barely enough to keep him down. The teenager quickly wrapped his arms around the prince's legs, leaving the rest up to his father an his mentor.

"Damn it, Vegeta, you need to listen!" the Namekian snapped.

"Bulma's awake!" Gohan tried to shout. "She's awake, Vegeta!"

"I KNOW THAT!" the prince screamed, thrashing even harder against his captors. "THAT'S WHY I HAVE TO FUCKING GET TO HER!"

Feeling his grasp slipping slightly, Goku pushed his energy higher and his hands down harder. "Vegeta," he began in a calm, level voice, "we need to talk to you about something before you can see her."

"NO!" howled Vegeta, bucking under the others. "LET ME GO!"

Goku's voice didn't waiver for a moment. "No, Vegeta, we can't let you do that. Now, if you can calm down, we can let you go and talk to you about what's going on. If you don't, we're just going to keep you pinned here. And between the three of us, Vegeta, you know that we can."

For a minute longer, the prince violently struggled, shouting and cursing every obscenity that he had ever heard. He didn't want to be stopped for any longer than he already had been. He didn't want to be stalled from getting to Bulma. He didn't want to sit around and wait for the damn fools to give him a lecture that he had no intention of listening to.

He just wanted to get the hell out of there.

But all the fighting and thrashing in the world would not move a pure blooded Saiyan, a Saiyan-human hybrid, and a stubborn Namekian combined. And after a while, the thrashing stopped.

"Just tell me what the fuck you need me to know," Vegeta growled, fighting to keep his temper in check, "and let me the hell up."

Goku smiled down at the elder Saiyan. "You promise not to run away?" he asked.

"Damn it, Kakarot, just tell me what is so fucking important that you won't let me get to Bulma!" the prince shouted.

The taller Saiyan just shrugged a shoulder, still keeping a hand firmly on his senior. "Okay," he calmly said. He glanced over his shoulder at his firstborn son. "Gohan, you know what's going on better than we do. Why don't you come up here and tell him?"

Hesitantly, the teenager removed himself from the prince's legs. He wasn't sure if he really trusted Vegeta to stay still with one of his restrainers gone. Hell, if he'd been in the same situation, and Videl had been where Bulma was, then the second he had the barest hint of a chance of freedom, he'd take it, the hell with the consequences.

But Vegeta didn't make a break for it. While being carefully guarded by Goku and Piccolo, Vegeta slowly sat up, crossed his arms, and glared at the youngest fighter. "I'm waiting," he hissed.

Gohan gulped deeply. He hated it when Vegeta used the 'evil' voice. "Well," he hoarsely started, "Bulma has regained consciousness, and all things considered, is doing extremely well."

It was obvious to all three witnesses that Vegeta had visibly relaxed at that news. And that helped _them_ relax. A little.

"Her voice is probably going to be gone for a few more hours," Gohan went on, pulling at his fingers, "because of the breathing tube that had been there while she was in her coma. It should come back, though, fairly soon. Oh, and the senzu plant should be flowering in the next couple of weeks, and since none of her injuries are classified as life threatening, she should be as good as new in no more than eleven days."

Vegeta nodded quietly. There was something that they weren't telling him…

That thought was only confirmed when he heard Piccolo harshly clear his throat, and watched as the Namekian glared fiercely at his pupil.

With a reluctant sigh, the teenager got to the heart of the matter. "Vegeta, Bulma has retrograde amnesia," he firmly stated. "The trauma from the crash caused her to lose her memory."

The color drained from Vegeta's face as he leaned forward, placing one hand on his knee and the other on the ground. "How much of it?" he demanded.

"Not all of it," Gohan slowly started. "Just…just everything since…since…"

"SINCE WHAT?" the prince snapped.

"Since Namek," Goku supplied for his son. "Vegeta, she doesn't remember anything since the time when we were on Namek."

Before Vegeta had a chance to react to that, Gohan found the courage to finish. "And because of the severity of the trauma, we've been cautioned against telling her anything too startling, because it could cause a severe enough panic attack to kill her in her current condition."

The three surrounding warriors braced themselves for an explosion. There was no telling what the violent prince would do when faced with such news.

But there was no screaming, no shouting, no threats of violence or wild energy blasts flying through the air. Vegeta just sat there, staring at nothing in stunned silence.

"Vegeta?" Goku softly asked, tilting down to look at the prince's blank expression. The gentle Saiyan became deeply concerned by the total lack of reaction he was witnessing. In fact, it didn't even seem like the prince was breathing.

"Vegeta?" he asked again. "Are you okay?"

Slowly, Vegeta began to speak. "So…what you're telling me is that if I were to go see her….right now…my presence alone would kill her."

Gohan squirmed uncomfortably at the statement. "Um, at least for the next couple of weeks, yeah," he admitted, staring at the dirt beneath him.

"Is that why you drugged me and had me removed?" he softly demanded.

"Drugged?" Goku asked, looking to his son.

With more skill than he had ever before displayed in a lie, Gohan smoothly told his father, "We had him given a sleeping aid to help him get the rest he needed."

"Ah," Goku nodded in understanding. "Got it."

"And no," Gohan went on, turning his attention back toward the stunned prince, "that's not why we did it. You had been awake for almost sixty hours straight, you were in dire need of rest, and we honestly didn't think that Bulma was going to wake up in the couple of hours we thought you'd be asleep."

He locked his eyes with those of the prince and lowered himself so they were on the same level. "Vegeta, we only found out a little while ago. That's why we had to stop you from getting to her…and why you probably shouldn't have any contact with her until we get her completely healed."

Quietly, Vegeta got to his feet. He dusted himself off before staring up into the night sky. "This is all so absurd…"

"Look," Gohan said in a comforting tone, "in a couple of weeks, we'll have the senzu beans, she'll be completely healed, and then, even if her memory hasn't come back, she won't be at risk for anything if we tell her except maybe a little hyperventilating. Just lay low for a couple weeks, and then everything will be fine."

Slowly, Vegeta turned his gaze to the teenager. "You are certain of this?"

"Yes," Gohan firmly said.

"Gohan would never lie," Goku assured the prince. "If he says that everything will be fine in two weeks, then everything will be fine in two weeks. He's a smart boy, Vegeta. Trust him."

For a moment longer, Vegeta's expression remained completely blank. "What about our son?" he quietly asked the others.

"He will also need to be kept out of sight," Piccolo said.

"He can stay with us," Goku offered, putting a hand on the prince's shoulder.

Vegeta flinched violently from the taller man's touch. "I can take care of my own son!" he snapped. He shot an angry glare at Gohan. "Did you tell him about his mother yet?"

"No!" Gohan insisted firmly. "Like I said, we only found out a little while ago, and Trunks has been asleep at Krillen's place the entire time. The last news he's heard is that she's unconscious but stable. He has no idea that she's woken up, let alone that she's…that she is having issues with her memory." He paused for a moment before adding, "Would you like us to tell him for you?"

Though Vegeta would never admit it, there was a very real part of him that wanted to accept that offer. He had never been good with the more emotional aspects of parenthood, and this was more than he thought he could deal with adequately. But he was a proud man, and would not let someone else fight his battles for him. Not even ones like this.

"I shall inform my son of the situation first thing in the morning," he stated, his tone back to its normal level. "Until then, I shall be at Capsule Corp."

Gohan, Goku, and Piccolo watched quietly as Vegeta took to the sky and headed back in the direction he had come from. "All things considered," Goku said, "that went pretty well."

Gohan turned toward his father and offered him a soft smile. "You know, Dad, you did a great job keeping calm throughout the whole thing."

Goku smiled back at his son and shrugged. "I guess I just didn't see the point in getting worked up. And besides, I don't think _anyone_ could calm down if they were completely surrounded by a bunch of yelling people who were trying to pin you to the ground."

From off on the side, Piccolo grunted. "If you two are going to keep doing this ridiculous sentimental moment, I'm leaving." He shot a glance over to his pupil and offered him a nod. "You know where to find me if anything comes up."

"Right," Gohan said. "Thanks for your help, Piccolo."

With one final nod, the Namekian flew up toward the lookout.

Back down on the ground, Goku turned back toward his son. "How did you get to him so quickly?" he asked. "I IT'd it out here as soon as I figured out what was going on, and you had me beat by almost a minute."

The teenager smiled at his father. "To be honest, I couldn't sleep if my life had depended on it. I'd been tossing and turning all night. I was already up, so when his power spiked, I sensed it right away. You?"

Goku chuckled. "Are you kidding me? A power jolt like that? I couldn't have slept through something like _that_!" He paused for a moment as a thought struck him. "I wonder how Piccolo managed to get here at the same time I did…"

Gohan laughed. "For as long as I've known him, I don't think that I've ever seen him sleep. Meditate, yes. Sleep, no. He probably was doing the same thing that I was, so unlike you, he didn't have to wake up." He sighed as he turned his gaze to the stars. "Kami, these next few weeks are going to suck…"

Back at Capsule Corp, Dr. Briefs paced nervously around the room his son in law had been in only fifteen minutes earlier. It was one of countless moments he wished that he had the younger man's ability to sense energy levels. If nothing else, he could know whether or not Vegeta had actually made it all the way to the hospital before anyone managed to stop him.

The good doctor's worries came to an abrupt end as the prince opened up the balcony window. "Oh, thank the gods that you're here!" he said. "Vegeta, I just want you to know that anything that you need right now, anything at all, just let me know what it is and I'll make sure that you get it."

Vegeta scowled at the older man. "So you already know about her condition."

"Yes," the doctor quickly said, reaching in to his pocket and pulling out a container of capsules. "I believe that this is everything that you will need for the next few weeks."

Hesitantly, Vegeta reached out and took the case. He opened it up and, sure enough, there was everything he and his son would need for the duration. There were capsules for food, clothing, furniture, even a fairly large capsule house in there.

"How's my grandson?" Dr. Briefs asked.

Vegeta glanced up from the package in his hand. "Asleep."

The doctor nodded. "Well, don't worry, my boy. Before you know it, everything is going to be back to normal. I know, I know, things will be difficult for the next couple of weeks, but just remember, son, that in the end, everything will be fine."

Nodding, Vegeta closed the case and slid it in to his pocket. He turned back to the window and placed one foot on the balcony rail. He paused for a moment before offering the doctor a glance.

"Thank you," he quietly said before taking off. He had to make sure that he got to the house before his son woke up.

As he watched the younger man disappear into the pre-dawn sky, the doctor sighed. "Best of luck, my boy," he softly said. "Best of luck."

/\/\/\

Author's Note: Again, thank you all for your support. I think this chapter probably could have been done better, but for the life of me, I couldn't really make it work. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of your wonderful support! I cannot even begin to tell you how much it means to me that so many of you are reading and reviewing my story. Not only the praise (because really, who doesn't like that?), but the honest critiquing as well. I really appreciate all of it!

Like some of my earlier chapters, this one was cut in half for emotional pull. So it's a wee bit shorter than anticipated, but it also means that you'll get another update fairly soon!

/\/\/\

Eighteen was standing out on the beach, awaiting her impending 'guest'. She, too, had felt the sudden surges in power. However, she had silently decided that it was not her job to stop the somewhat maniacle prince in his quest to tear through hell itself to get to his wife. While she would have preferred to stay out of the matter altogether, she knew her husband wanted her to pitch in, and keeping the children isolated from the ordeal had been the easiest of the jobs.

When Vegeta had shifted his course, and none of the others had followed him, she had easily been able to deduce that the prince would be coming for his son shortly. While she certainly did not like the man, even she felt bad for him and his current situation.

Especially the part where Vegeta was going to have to tell his son about their home.

It was only minutes before dawn when she saw him off in the distance. The cool blonde crossed her arms and leveled her chin as he landed in front of her. She knew that he, much like herself, would respond much better to cool indifference rather than any sort of sympathy or pity.

"He's asleep upstairs," she stated, her voice totally neutral. "If he follows the same pattern as the last few days, he will be waking in about half an hour."

The prince only offered a silent nod. When he didn't move a muscle, Eighteen rolled her crystal blue eyes. "Would you like to come in?"

Vegeta blinked, as though confused by the question. After a moment, he silently shook his head.

To say that Eighteen was unnerved by his behavior would have been an understatement. She had been expecting shouting, demands, and threats. She had expected a temper tantrum of epic proportions. Hell, she had even prepared herself for an all out brawl with the man, should he prove completely unreasonable.

Silent repression from him, though, scared her more than any temper tantrum could have.

"If you change your mind," she softly said, dropping her arms to her side, "feel free to come straight in."

The prince only offered a silent nod, his gaze drifting off to the side. Eighteen took the hint and went inside, knowing that the others would likely be there soon enough anyway. Deliberately leaving the front door unlocked, she approached the living room to check on her husband. He had only returned from his shift at the hospital a few minutes earlier, and he was clearly exhausted.

While he had woken up with the enormous power surges just as his wife had, Krillen had not stayed awake for long. As he had been pulling on his clothes and heading down the stairs, Eighteen had calmly pointed out that Gohan, Goku, and Piccolo had all been on their way to intercept the powerful and out of control prince, and had assured him repeatedly that, should the worst scenario present itself, she would be sure to wake him back up. Krillen, knowing his wife was right, simply mumbled something incoherent before falling asleep on the couch.

The blonde smiled softly at her sleeping spouse. He was curled up in a little ball, still mumbling incoherently, and smiling at whatever it was he was dreaming about. Eighteen gently draped a blanket over her husband and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. The others would be there in only a few minutes, but she figured that he may as well rest peacefully for what little time that he could.

The minutes passed by quickly, and sooner than she would have liked, Eighteen felt the energy signals of Gohan and Goku as they landed on the beach in front of her house. The blonde shook her husband's shoulder gently. "Krillen," she softly spoke in his ear, "it's time to get up."

"Aw, I don't wanna go to school today," he muttered, rolling to the side and facing the back of the couch.

"Don't make me toss you off of this and make you wake up by hitting the ground," she replied, a smirk on her features as she shook him again.

Krillen sat up quickly, still clearly drowsy but not willing to call his wife's bluff. "I'm up!" he insisted.

"Good," Eighteen said, kissing the top of his head, "because your friends are here to play."

That woke up the little man. "What?" he asked. "They're here already?"

His wife only nodded, pointing toward the door. Both of them could hear that someone was talking outside.

…

Just beyond the front door, Goku and Gohan had just landed. The two saw the prince sitting off on the side of the house. His legs were crossed at the ankle, and his weight was shifted back on to his hands. His eyes were fixated off to the east, in the direction of the rising sun. It almost seemed as though he were completely unaware of the presence of the others.

The two Son men exchanged a nervous glance with one another before they both shrugged. Goku turned to the prince and approached him softly. "Vegeta?" he quietly asked. "How are you?"

Neither man was surprised when Vegeta did not respond, although they were a little concerned by it. "Vegeta?" Goku tried again. "Gohan and I are going to go inside to see Krillen, and maybe get something to eat. Do you want to come with us?"

Again, the prince remained silent and still.

Gohan placed a hand on his father's shoulder, and he shook his head. Goku, now visibly upset, tried one last time to interact with the other pureblooded Saiyan. "We'll be inside, Vegeta, if you need anything. Just…just let us know, okay?"

A small wave of relief washed over Goku as he watched Vegeta shake his head. While it wasn't a positive response, it was still a reaction, and that was more than any of them could have hoped for at the moment. Deciding not to push his luck, Goku turned to the house and went inside, with Gohan close on his heels.

…

"Hey guys!" Krillen said, his voice excited but soft. It was barely five in the morning, and all of the children were still fast asleep just up the stairs.

"Hey!" Goku responded, also keeping his voice down. "How are you?"

Krillen offered his best friend a lopsided smile. "Tired," he admitted, "but not too bad." He pointed at the east wall of the house and tilted his head in that direction. "Is he seriously just sitting out there?" he quietly asked.

Gohan nodded in affirmation.

The short man let out a low whistle. "I don't know about you, but I think that's _really_ weird for him…" He paused for a moment before looking up at Goku. "How much does he know?" he softly asked.

Gohan softly bit down on his lower lip before answering. "I told him that she had retrograde amnesia, that she can't remember anything beyond what happened on Namek, and that if we were to tell her anything that she might find emotionally shocking in her current state, she's at high risk for having a massive, potentially fatal, stress induced heart attack."

Eighteen raised an eyebrow at his words, but kept her mouth shut.

"He seems to have taken it…well…" Krillen whispered. "You know, all things considered, I think this actually might be a fairly good way for him to be handling it. It's a lot better than, you know, blowing something up."

Goku couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped from him. "Yeah, you think he's calm now," he laughed, "but getting him to sit still long enough to hear it was a royal pain in the ass!"

As the two old friends enjoyed a laugh during their brief moment of relief, Eighteen wordlessly signaled to the teenaged hybrid to follow her. The two silently made their way into the next room over, the kitchen, before the blonde spoke.

"You lied to him," she quietly accused, glaring at the boy.

Gohan chewed on the inside of his cheek. Had had rarely shown any talent as a liar, and had really only been able to pull it off in absolutely crucial moments when the truth just wasn't a possible option. This, however, was not one of those crucial moments, and he knew better than to protest with the mercurial blonde fighter.

"I gave him the information he needed," he finally said.

"With a few facts rearranged in his favor," Eighteen softly shot back.

Averting his gaze, Gohan surrendered. "How did you know?" he quietly asked.

Eighteen placed one hand on her hip, and extended the index finger of the other. "First of all, retrograde amnesia does not work like this. It erases the trauma that the person suffered, blocking only a small amount of memory. It does not take away fifteen years and destroy memories like the birth of your only child. You know damn well that means that she has suffered physical brain damage."

"But he doesn't need to know that," Gohan countered. "In two weeks, the senzu beans will be grown, we'll give her one, she'll be healed completely, and her brain will thus be fixed. Her memory will be restored, she will no longer be in danger of anything like a stress induced heart attack, we'll all enjoy a good laugh over this and then never speak of it again."

"Then why did you do it?" Eighteen pushed. "Why did you lie to him if you think everything is going to be fine? Why tell him that she has one kind of amnesia but not another?"

Gohan averted his gaze before finally answering. "I only had to lie to him once if I told him that she had retrograde amnesia. Now, if he asks me questions about it, I can just tell him facts about a trauma based amnesia, not one that resulted from physical brain damage."

"But why?" Eighteen asked again. "All logic points to him preferring that her memory loss was due to a physical nature. As you stated, the senzu beans will be fully formed in a matter of a couple of weeks. Would he not take comfort in the knowledge that with the simple ingestion of a bean, she will remember whatever the hell it is she loved about him in the first place?"

But the teenager shook his head. "I honestly think that it would have been a bad idea to let him know that a senzu bean could fix everything. We don't know that it will actually fix her memory. We have absolutely no experience to show what, if anything, they do with the mind. I even made a reference to the idea that her memory might not come back with the bean. I can't even begin to imagine how catastrophic it would be if he thought that the bean would fix her memory and it didn't?"

Eighteen quietly agreed. "You seem to have put a lot of thought into this."

"I'm a little paranoid like that," the teenager admitted. "And it's not like I've really slept in the last few days…hey, wait a minute, what did you mean by 'first of all'?"

The blonde just quietly raised an eyebrow at the boy.

Gohan put his gaze back on Eighteen's face. "You said 'first of all' when we started talking about this. What was the 'second of all' that you were thinking of?"

Eighteen stared the hybrid straight in the eye. "Because he hasn't destroyed anything yet," she coolly stated. "He's a tempermental, violent man who gets his frustrations out by making something, or someone, suffer. If he had no hope of having that woman back, he would not be quietly biding his time and waiting for her recovery. He would have snapped, and you know it."

"No, he wouldn't," Gohan insisted. "Vegeta wouldn't do that…"

"You're as bad as his son," Eighteen hissed. "You have a blind faith in a man who hasn't deserved it. Have you forgotten that just last year he massacred thousands of people, in a single moment, just to goad your father into a fight?"

"He was possessed!" the hybrid hissed back. "You cannot hold him responsible for what happened with Buu!"

The blonde took a large step forward and stared up at the tall teenager. "I was there, Gohan," she quietly said. "I could hear what he said, remember?"

Gohan bit down on his lip for a moment as he gathered his courage. He had never been good at confrontation, and even though he had never really fought Eighteen, there was no denying that she was an unbelievably intimidating woman. "He made a mistake," he firmly stated, "but it was not all him in there. Yes, he had some control, but not enough to stop everything. I know Vegeta, Eighteen. I've known him since I was six years old. I've known him as the greatest evil in my life, as a tentative ally in war, as a reluctant neutral party, as a wild card in battle, and as a father and a friend. I have watched him change a lot over the last decade, Eighteen. And while he may have made a mistake last year, I honestly believe that he would not revert back to his old ways." He locked eyes firmly with her before finishing with, "Not while he has his son."

Quietly, Eighteen nodded. "Perhaps you are right," she stated. "I will never have that insane faith in him that you do, but I will choose to have faith in your decision right now." She turned her head in the direction of the front door. "Speak of the devil, he's coming in now."

She gave Gohan one final glance. "For the sake of us all, I hope you're right."

With that, she and Gohan went back into the front room. They joined Goku and Krillen, watching silently as the prince entered the small house, walked over to the staircase, and looked up. Their gaze followed his, and only a few seconds later, a lavender haired boy appeared at the top of those stairs.

Trunks rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he looked down, but once his eyes focused, he was suddenly wide awake. For the past few days, whenever he had gotten up, the only other one awake had been Eighteen, who had always just quietly let him go about his day.

But at the base of the stairs he saw Goku, Gohan, Krillen, Eighteen…and his father, all staring up at him.

A cold feeling formed in the young prince's stomach. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. It frightened him. And there was only one person who he wanted to talk to when he was this scared.

"Papa?"

/\/\/\


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I have had the next three chapters of this story in the "Almost Finished" list for so long, I actually had forgotten that I started them. Plus, actually going to my computer for the purpose of updating has been number two on my "To Do" list for a week, but stuff kept coming up to take the number one slot. It's been a crazy week…

Anyway, a thousand thank you's to all of you who have taken the time to review. I thank you for your praise, your critiques, and, most of all, for understanding that as this is a work of fanfiction, there are going to be a few creative liberties taken. All who have made commentary on the plot have done so with an open mind, and I truly thank you for that.

/\/\/\

Trunks felt his blood run cold as he looked down at his father. His dad was supposed to be at the hospital, keeping his mom safe. If he wasn't at the hospital, then his mom must have…

Panic filled the nine year old, and his eyes darted back and forth wildly as he tried to sense his mother. In his panicked state, he struggled to hone in his senses well enough to track a human. Several seconds passed before he caught a glimmer of her energy, and he locked on to it for dear life. A sigh of relief escaped him when he realized that she was still alive. In fact, if anything, her energy was even higher than it had been the previous day.

"She's alive," he whispered, smiling to himself. "She's doing better!"

"Trunks…"

The young prince snapped out of his small trance to look back down to his father. "Oh, right," he quietly responded, bounding down the stairs. "Mom woke up, didn't she?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. "I know she did! I can sense her from here, and she's stronger than she was yesterday, which means she's getting better. And if you're here, and not in the hospital with Mom, then that means that she woke up, and she's okay, and I can go give her a hug, and then we can all go back home!" The boy was so excited that he actually began to bounce up and down at the base of the stairs. "She's okay!" he cheered. "She's okay! She's okay! She's okay!"

All five adults in the room grimaced slightly. Things were not okay. Not by a long shot. And there was no way a nine year old would take this news well.

"Trunks," Vegeta said again, putting a hand on his son's shoulder and forcing him to stay on the ground, "come with me."

In that one instant, Trunks' heart dropped to his stomach and his smile disappeared completely. "She's not okay," he whispered with a crack in his voice and tears in his eyes. "She's not okay, is she, Dad?"

Vegeta gently pushed his son's shoulder, guiding him to the front door. "Come outside with me," he calmly said, "and I will tell you what you need to know."

Numbly, Trunks nodded and followed his father's lead.

As the door closed behind them, Goku cringed. "How bad do you think this is going to be?" he softly asked the others.

"On a scale from one to ten," Krillen answered, "with one being nonchalance and ten being Armageddon, I think we're looking at something in the high sevens. Low sixes if he got a good night's sleep."

Eighteen slapped her husband's shoulder. "How can you make a joke at a time like this?" she hissed. "He's a kid who's about to find out that his mother has no idea who he is! How dare you joke around about this?"

With glum eyes, Krillen looked up at his wife. "Honey, it's how I respond to these situations and you know it. I'm not trying to take away from the significance or the difficulty of the situation. I'm just getting through it in a way that has been very good for me in the past." He sighed before sincerely adding, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, ease up," Gohan said. "It's been a long few days for all of us. We've all cracked under the pressure a little at one point or another."

Goku suddenly found his shoes to be very interesting. He really did not want to think about how he had reacted in the hospital while Bulma had still been unconscious. He still could not believe that he had done what he had done.

"Besides," the teenaged hybrid went on, "we need to get some of the stress out of our systems so that we can be there for Trunks and Vegeta right now. We're not going to be doing them any favors by keeping our emotions bottled up to the point of eruption. If we do, we're only going to end up hurting them."

The other three in the room silently nodded. They had all been fairly caught up in their own emotions. It was time to set their own feelings aside for a moment to help those who were in need.

Slowly, all four of them turned their gaze to the door, wondering how it was going out there.

…

The sun had barely risen over the small island. The sky was a grayish blue and partially covered by a thin fog that seemed to be everywhere. A delicate breeze swept over the island, gently brushing up against the fronds of the palm tree and the leaves on the bushes. Nearby, the sounds of the waves gently lapping up against the soft, sandy beach could be heard.

But Trunks could not see or hear any of it. In the last few minutes, his heart had gone from slow and relaxed to jumping up in his throat, to excited where it belonged, to sinking in the pit of his stomach in despair, and was, at the moment, hovering once more near his throat in nervous anticipation.

Father and son sat at the edge of the shore, staring off toward the sunrise. For a brief moment, the serenity of the environment seemed to have a calming effect. But that moment was fleeting, and was soon replaced by an unnerving quiet.

After several minutes of silence, the nine year old couldn't take the pressure of the quiet any longer. "How bad is it, Dad?" he asked, his voice wavering. "How bad is Mom?"

The elder prince remained silent for a moment longer. He had not actually prepared himself for this conversation. His time in isolation from the others had been spent in a necessary state of total numbness, void of any and all emotions. It was a comfortable state for him, one that he had come to rely on heavily throughout his life.

At that moment, though, he found himself wishing that he had not gone into that state, that he had instead thought of what to tell his only child.

"She is awake," Vegeta slowly began. When Trunks looked at him eagerly, Vegeta tried to find the right words to go on. "She woke up a few hours ago," he continued, his hesitation more evident than he cared for. "She is in stable condition, and should have no problem lasting long enough for a senzu bean to sprout and take care of her wounds."

Trunks bit down on his lip. It was good news he was hearing, to be sure, but he knew his father. He knew that his dad wasn't telling him something, and that disturbed him. His dad did not pull punches, especially on emotional topics. The man would just bluntly state facts and be done with it, the hell with what other people thought. But he wasn't doing that, and that disturbed Trunks.

"What's wrong, Dad?" he asked, leaning closer to his father.

Vegeta sighed softly before going on. "Trunks…do you remember the severity of your mother's injuries?"

With his lower lip trembling, the boy nodded.

"The worst ones that she sustained were to her head," Vegeta stated, his voice neutral. "Those were the ones that caused the most damage and those were the ones that are the cause of her current state."

Trunks couldn't take the tension any more. "She's paralyzed, isn't she?" he blurt out. "Oh, Dad, I promise that I'll help take care of her. I'll do all of my chores, I'll help Grandma with the cooking, I'll even learn how to fix the robots. Don't worry, Dad, I'll take care of Mom, just like I promised I would."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at his son. "She's not paralyzed, boy."

The nine year old blinked in surprise. He was sure that had to be it. What else happened because of being hit in the head? "She's blind?" he guessed.

His father shook his head.

"Deaf?"

Again, Vegeta simply shook his head.

Trunks was running out of senses. "She can't smell?" he randomly guessed.

"Stop it," Vegeta firmly commanded. "Do not do this, Trunks. You will let me tell you what the situation is, and you are not to interrupt me until I am done. Understood?"

Trunks gulped slightly but nodded. It was actually somewhat comforting to hear that threatening tone in his father's voice again. "I understand, Papa. Please, tell me."

The elder prince drew a deep breath in through his nose before he spoke. "Do you remember the stories of why Kakarot acts like such a fool all the time?"

"Of course I do," Trunks responded, making sure that it was okay to do so. "You and Mom tell me all the time that he acts like a clown because he fell off a cliff and got hit in the…" As he began to piece the information together, Trunks shot a confused look toward his father. "Mom's going to start acting stupid?"

A harsh glare from his father got Trunks to snap his mouth shut. "I'll shut up now," he whispered, his cheeks turning bright red from embarrassment. He could not believe that those words had actually left his mouth.

Given the situation, though, Vegeta did not feel like giving his son grief over his statement. "Why did the head injury make Kakarot act like a dolt?" he pushed on.

Trunks glanced up at his father, again making sure that it was alright for him to say something again. "Um, because he forgot his Saiyan side," the boy mumbled. Suddenly, Trunks sat up perfectly straight. "He forgot…"

"Severe head trauma can lead to memory loss," Vegeta interrupted. "Your mother's was no exception. There is a substantial chunk of time that she cannot remember at all, and because of her current state, we cannot tell her too much of it."

The boy swallowed hard, knowing he was going to regret his question. "How much did she forget?" he whispered.

"Twelve years," Vegeta bluntly said. "Her last memories are from twelve years ago."

"But I'm only nine!" Trunks cried, not caring how childish he sounded at the moment. "That would mean that she doesn't remember me, and she would _never_ forget me! You're wrong, Dad! _You're wrong!_"

"I am not wrong," his father firmly went on. "Her memory of the last _twelve_ years is gone, Trunks. She does not remember you…nor does she remember being in a relationship with me."

The boy glared at his father as he processed all of what he was being told. His mother had a head injury. She couldn't remember anything that had happened in the last twelve years. They weren't supposed to tell her anything. His mother didn't remember who he was. His mother didn't even remember his father.

Trunks suddenly felt all of the color drain from his face.

"We can't go home, can we?" he whispered. Tears slowly began to fall from his eyes, and before he knew it, Trunks was sobbing, clutching on to his father for dear life.

Though he would never admit it out loud, Vegeta was extremely thankful that the boy had figured that part out on his own. He had no idea how to tell his son that, literally, there was no place like home.

"For the time being," the father stated, "we will be residing in a house that your grandfather has given to us. In two weeks time, the senzu plant will have sprouted, your mother will be healed, and then we can go back home."

Sniffling, Trunks looked up. "Two weeks?" he choked out between sobs. "She'll be okay in two weeks?"

Vegeta stiffened at the question. Gohan had told him that there was a chance that, even with the senzu beans, Bulma's memory might not be restored. She might still be completely unaware of the family that she had formed. She might still be unable to recognize her son.

Hesitantly, Vegeta wrapped an arm around his only child and pulled him into a sideways hug. "Just wait two weeks, son," he softly said. "She'll be okay."

/\/\/\

Author's Note: Just a reminder that this is the second half of what was originally one long chapter, which is why it is a wee bit shorter than the usual ones.

Again, questions and commentaries are more than welcome.

Oh, and for those of you who are curious: There is a major plot twist in the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I appreciate the support that I have gotten for this story. Many of you have been very solid, and very mindful reviewers, and I really and truly am grateful for that. As I know I have said before, I love hearing what you all think. It is extremely encouraging, particularly when I get a lot of them!

/\/\/\

Trunks picked at the food on his plate. His father had told him to wait two weeks, and for two weeks, had had been as patient as he could be. He had made a promise, to himself and to his father, that for two weeks, he would wait.

But it had been seventeen days since his father had come for him, and that was not what he had agreed to.

The young prince looked at his father and opened his mouth, seemingly ready to say something. But before any words could pass through his lips, he felt his will die out. He already knew that there was nothing more his father could do about the situation. Why bother bringing it up at all?

They had decided that the easiest way to lay low was to stay in the forest, Vegeta and Trunks had opened up the capsule house about ten miles south of where Goku lived. That way, Trunks would not have to face total isolation, but they were still out of shouting distance of 'the idiot'. Vegeta was not happy about being so near the other Saiyan, but for the sake of his son, he had not uttered a word.

In the past seventeen days, father and son had fallen into an extremely strict routine. Neither of them had ever mentioned forming one, it had just sort of…happened.

Vegeta would wake up every morning an hour before dawn, when he would uncapsulize the spare training room Dr. Briefs had given him and begin training. An hour after the sun rose, he would halt his training, close down the facility, and place the capsule inside the house. He would then hunt for breakfasts main course, making sure to bring back a large enough kill for both himself and his son. It never took him long, but by the time he returned, Trunks would be up and wandering into the kitchen. They would eat in silence, and would just as quietly clean up afterwards. Then came training together, then lunch, followed by time for Trunks to study.

Bulma had always made sure that Trunks would spend _some_ time hitting the books…

They would train again in the afternoon, then have a rest before dinner. Each evening was spent in near total silence. Despite the fact that their location had been chosen strictly for the purpose of Trunks being near his best friend, the young prince had not once gone for a visit, nor had he invited his partner in crime over. For seventeen days, the two had lived in quiet solitude, both trying to keep patient as they waited for their lives to be put back together.

But by that seventeenth night, the stress and worry had finally gotten to Trunks. Steeling his resolve, he finally decided to talk.

"Dad?" he said, his voice unfortunately cracking as he spoke.

Vegeta looked up from his own hardly touched meal and raised an eyebrow at his son.

Trunks swallowed what little saliva was in his mouth. "Do you think…do you think we can go home soon?"

The elder prince had to fight to keep from biting his lip or showing some other physical sign of his concern. The last thing he wanted was to appear worried and weak in front of his son, but he had honestly been dreading that question since the day they had moved out. There was no definite answer he could give the boy, and he had never been one to skirt around the truth. But this was a special circumstance, and Vegeta knew that he had to handle it delicately.

"I am unfamiliar with the specific growing patterns of the senzu plant," he said with a level voice. This was the mode he went in to every time he had to have a heart to heart with his son: no facial emotion, straight facts, limited questions allowed. "I was informed, as you were, that the plant would have sufficiently bloomed by now to produce the bean. Clearly, it has not. I cannot give you an accurate estimation of when we shall be returning to Capsule Corp."

Upon seeing his son's near devastated features, the uncomfortable Vegeta cleared his throat. "If you would like, I will speak to the Namek and see if he can give us an accurate time."

Trunks' eyes lit up. "That would be great, Dad! Thanks!" With renewed hope, the boy dug in to his food, a smile on his face with each bite.

Vegeta, however, did not share his son's enthusiasm. What he had failed to mention to Trunks was that every morning, before he started his training, he had gone to Piccolo in hope that the plant had finally bloomed. And every morning, he had returned despondent, having simply been told, "We just need to wait longer." No new time estimate had been given, and what little information the Saiyan could get seemed to come reluctantly.

Just as Trunks was gaining new hope, Vegeta was beginning to lose his.

…

"You're worse than Vegeta is," Piccolo growled as his latest visitor appeared before him.

Goku just blinked in surprise. "Gee, Piccolo, all I wanted to do was see if the senzu beans were ready yet. Are they?"

"No!" the green alien shouted. "They are not ready yet!"

"Well, you don't need to be so mean about it," Goku pouted. "All I did was ask a question."

Piccolo growled again at the Saiyan. "Yes, the same question you have been asking me over and over and over again."

"Hey!" Goku protested. "I'm not up here asking you _that _often"

"IT'S BEEN TEN MINUTES SINCE THE LAST TIME YOU ASKED ME!" Piccolo shouted back.

The Saiyan once again blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. "Wow, maybe Chi-Chi was right. I do need a watch!"

Piccolo pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm his extremely stressed nerves. "Why are you even coming to _me_ about this?" he asked in the calmest manner he could. "You know that it is not I who am the grower of the senzu beans."

Again, Goku scratched the back of his head, this time with a laugh. "Korin doesn't let me teleport to him anymore," he chuckled. "He said that if I had any questions, I should direct them to you."

"I'm going to kill that cat," the former guardian growled. He directed his attention back to his former foe. "Have I not already told you that I would inform you as soon as the plants were ready?"

"Well, yeah, but you never know" Goku insisted. "You could have forgotten to check this morning, or maybe you decided to tell Vegeta first, which is probably what I would do if I was in your position, or they were ready and you just forgot to tell us, or the plant died and you didn't _want_ to tell us, or…"

That was as far as the Saiyan got before a firm hand clamped down on his mouth. "You will stop talking, and you will stop talking now," Piccolo growled. When Goku tried to say, "Okay" with a hand still over his mouth, the Namek decided that it was better to just retain his grip.

"According to Korin, the plant should be blooming any day now," he coolly answered. "I have not told Vegeta that yet because I don't want to incur the wrath of that man if he is once again given a deadline for this and it is not met. He almost had a stroke three days ago when I told him they weren't ready yet, and I'm just not in the mood to orphan Trunks right now. When the plants are ready, I will let _Gohan_ know first."

When Goku's eyes bugged out, Piccolo just held on to his mouth harder. "I am not going to tell you because you are annoying when you celebrate," he calmly said. "Particularly when you start dancing. I choose to make your son deal with that."

A muffled, "Hey!" could be heard through the green hand before Piccolo continued.

"Then _you_ can tell Vegeta, because I fear _his_ good mood more than I fear yours. As you are doing that, Gohan will be delivering the bean to Bulma." He let go of his former rival finally and wiped his hand off on his cape. "I think it would be in everyone's best interest if Vegeta were not in the room when Bulma is healed."

"What?!?" Goku cried. "How can you say that?"

"Because," the Namek firmly went on, "we do not know if the beans will heal her mind. Assuming that she is completely healed physically, but her mind is not restored, then she will not take Vegeta's presence any better than she would now. Which brings up the other issue of getting her to calmly accept his presence in the room in the first place. She does not know that he is living on this planet, let alone that he is no longer evil. Her panic in those last few moments before healing could still be enough to kill her."

The Saiyan's shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right," he mumbled, looking at his boots. "That's so unfair, though. If Chi-Chi were about to be healed, I don't think anything could stop me from being there."

"And that is why Gohan will be administering the bean as Vegeta is told that they are ready." Piccolo glanced over his shoulder and saw Dende standing in the entry way.

The poor young guardian was keeping himself scarce these days. More than one of Bulma's companions had implored him to heal their friend, but he could not leave his post at the Lookout for such a universally trivial thing. As Guardian of Earth, he was bound to his post. He could not leave unless he was direly needed to prevent an epic catastrophe on his adopted world, and in the grand plan of the universe, one woman in a car accident did not warrant Armageddon level efforts.

The young Namek had almost classified Bulma's injuries as a large enough threat to the safety of the Earth. He had seen the destruction Vegeta was capable of first hand, and the risk of. The Saiyan he had first met was wild, vengeful, and erratically violent. The mere thought of him being driven to his old ways had almost sent Dende flying to the scene of the accident when it happened.

But Piccolo had stopped him, saying that it was not his place to intervene. He had insisted that if things were truly that bad, Bulma would be brought to the Lookout, and that the boy would not need to leave his post.

Neither of them had expected the events to unfold as they had. Gohan had taken control of the situation, and had done an admirable job keeping the poor woman alive long enough to move her, but had one critical mistake: he had let his human training take over, and had taken her to a hospital. In that moment of crisis, he had forgotten about Dende's ability to heal the wounded. And because of that momentary lapse of judgment, everything had gone so wrong.

Bulma was now too injured to be teleported, and they had only risked relocating her to Capsule Corp with a well trained team monitoring her every breath and getting her set up in the sick bay that the facility housed. Dende could not go to her, and she could no longer be brought to him. Now all they could do was wait for the senzu beans and pray that they would work.

It was not, to say the least, something that Bulma's friends agreed on as the best course of action. And so, the poor boy found himself on the raw end of resentment.

Piccolo turned back to the Saiyan by his side. "There is nothing you can accomplish here, Goku," he sternly said. "Go back to your home. You will be informed when it is time."

Goku gave a half smile, but instead of leaving, he just stood there and continued to stare at his boots. "Actually, there is one thing that you _could_ do for me," he hesitantly said. "Could you spar with me? Gohan's buried himself in his studying. He's always saying that he has to go to the library. I get the feeling that asking Vegeta right now would just be suicidal, and I just really need to get some of this out of my system."

A smirk crossed the taller warrior's features as he lowered himself into a fighting stance. "That," he said, "I can do."

…

The plan that Piccolo had told Goku was not entirely accurate. In fact, as the two were sparring far above the Earth, Gohan sat on the edge of Bulma's bed, playing with the bean in his fingers. It had ripened that afternoon, and he had picked it up as soon as he could. All he had to do was wait for Bulma to wake up, give it to her, and hope for the best.

He hated having to sneak around just to heal a friend, but it was a necessity. If anyone else knew that the beans were ready, they would be clambering in to see the 'miracle', and that would only make things more stressful than they already were. Particularly his father, Trunks, and Vegeta.

"Wake up," he whispered to the heiress. "Please, just wake up, let me give this to you, be fine, and let this whole nightmare end."

In the past seventeen days, Gohan had come to the same conclusion Dende had: taking Bulma to the hospital had been the biggest mistake they could have made. Not only did it further endanger her health, but it made her situation global news. When the richest woman in the world is barely clinging to life, every gossip monger in the world is on high alert.

Newspapers, magazines, even internet pop ups had Bulma's face plastered all over them. Questions were constantly being asked. Some were addressed to the hospital, some to the family, some even to advice columnists. What happened to cause the accident? What had she been doing when the crash occurred? How serious were her injuries? Would she live? What would happen to Capsule Corp if she died? And more importantly, what would happen to her fortune?

Even questions that had been long forgotten by the media had begun to resurface, and there was one that everyone wanted to know: Was that purple haired boy_ really_ her son, and if so, who was the father? And where, exactly, were _they_ during all of this?

Gohan let out an exhausted sigh as he turned his gaze to the ceiling. Even if Bulma lived, the media was once again obsessing over her family, and Gohan felt like it was entirely his fault. Everywhere the teenager turned was a reminder of his mistake, and the stress had been killing him.

So he had been sitting there, on the edge of Bulma's bed, for hours. The only thing he had done was dwell on his problems and play with what he hoped to be his salvation. If everything went as he hoped, then Bulma would be good as new in a matter of hours. She could just lay low for a few months, claim fantastic care and remarkable surgery, and the media would forget all about her.

Gohan nearly jumped when he noticed her eyelids trying to open. In the last few weeks they had become far less swollen, but it still was not easy for her to answer her eyes. "Oh, please be waking up," the teenager begged. "Please, please, please be waking up…"

Bulma groaned as she left the land of slumber, and offered the boy a genuine smile when she saw him. She had grown accustomed to this adult version of Gohan almost surprisingly quickly. But, as she reasoned, Gohan had been more of an adult in his childhood than most of the adults _either_ of them knew, so it wasn't exactly a hard concept to adapt to. At least, not after the initial shock.

"Hey," she rasped out. Her breathing tube had been out for a while, but it was still hard for her to talk.

"Hey," Gohan replied. "I got a present for you."

Bulma's eyes widened as she saw the senzu bean, and her smile broadened as far as it could in her state. She didn't utter a word, just opened her mouth and awaited delivery.

Gohan was only too happy to comply. He gently slid the bean into her waiting mouth, and had to keep his hands clasped together to keep them from shaking. His entire body trembled with anticipation as he waited for the bean to take affect.

He forced himself to sit still as he watched her wounds close up. He clenched every muscle in his body in an attempt to still himself as her battered skin returned to its porcelain nature. He bit down on his lip as he watched her stretch out and move her limbs for the first time in over two weeks. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from asking the question that was begging to be screamed from his lips.

Bulma's brilliant blue eyes fluttered opened, and she burst out laughing when she saw the teenager's antsy nature. "Relax, Gohan!" she laughed, giving him a slap on the back. "See? I'm okay!"

Gohan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "So, you're okay? As in…everything's okay?"

She ran a hand over the top of her head. "Well, I'm still bald, and may I just say that I am more than upset at the fact that senzu beans do _not_ heal hair. I swear, I should write a letter of complaint to the manufacturer…"

"Bulma," Gohan interrupted, a serious look on his face. "Please…"

The heiress blinked her beautiful eyes at him, and her eyebrows furrowed as she thought back. Hesitantly, she shook her head. "I can't remember everything, if that's what you're asking," she softly said. "But after spending all that time trapped in this bed, I actually don't care right now."

The hybrid tried to hide just how devastated he was by that news. "Well, that's okay Bulma," he said, trying to be optimistic. "Now that you're not hurt anymore, we can teach you everything that happened. Don't worry, we won't leave a single thing out!"

"I'm sure you won't," the heiress laughed. "Hey, Gohan?"

"Yes?"

Bulma shifted uncomfortably in her bed, tucking her still stiff legs underneath her freshly healed body. "Look, I don't have anything against you being here, but there is someone…else…that I was kind of hoping would be here to…to be with me when I woke up."

Gohan held his breath, a glimmer of hope in his soul. _Could she remember Vegeta? Maybe not their relationship, but at least that she likes it when he's near?_

"Can you go get Yamcha for me?" she quietly asked. "I mean, I know that he and I broke up a long time ago, and that we haven't dated each other for years, but out of everyone in the world…that's who I want to be with."

And Gohan felt his heart drop into his stomach.

/\/\/\

Author's Notes: Well, I couldn't exactly make it easy for them, now could I? The story still has a way left to it!

If you could be so kind as to review, I would really appreciate it.

Thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for you wonderful support!

When I was originally getting ready to post this chapter, that was as much of a note as I had. However, as I have spent a couple days trying to update and meeting technological resistance, I also wanted to thank you for your patience.

Enjoy the day!

/\/\/\

"Bulma," Gohan hesitantly began, "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

The heiress' features were completely unreadable as she studied the teenager before her. "Look, Gohan," she said, her voice far softer than her expression, "I am well aware of the fact that Yamcha and I broke up, like, ten years ago. Hell, the last memories I have of him are from about a year after we broke up for the ten millionth time. But you need to understand, Gohan, that as far as I'm concerned, Yamcha's the romantic figure in my life. And right now, kiddo, I really need to be held by someone who loves me. I know Yamcha well enough to know that, no matter why we broke up, he still loves me."

Gohan, who had averted his gaze while she had been speaking, continued to stare at the quilt he was sitting on. "I love you," he softly said.

Bulma couldn't help but smile at his words. "I know you do, honey," she tenderly said, wrapping her arms around him, "and I love you, too. But not in the same way that I love Yamcha."

The hybrid's head snapped up, and he locked his eyes with hers as he broke away from her hug. "_You_ love _him_?" he shouted, not meaning to raise his voice but unable to do otherwise. "Bulma, you can't be serious. I remember the three months it took us to get to Namek extremely well, and not one story you told about him sounded like you _loved_ him."

"Oh, what would you know?" she dismissed with a wave of a hand. "You were six years old at the time, and I remember that like it was yesterday. Well, technically, I remember it like it was three weeks ago, but you get my point. But how could you have known what a story of love sounded like?"

"Bulma, I was young. I wasn't stupid," he pointed out. "Even back then I was fairly certain that stories of a lover don't start with the phrase, 'the last time I saw that moron…'."

"Oh?" the heiress countered, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "Then tell me, Casanova, what it is that stories of a lover are meant to start with."

"They start with…" That was as far as Gohan got in his argument before he realized three things. First of all, it was probably against his better judgment to be using stories that Bulma could not remember. Secondly, he knew that he really should not be referencing the secret (albeit _very_ interesting) stories that he had overheard Bulma telling his mother over tea, at least not if he didn't want to be torn apart by the irritable Saiyan. And finally, it dawned on him that her stories almost always started with, "You'll never believe what that son of a bitch did today." Apparently, Bulma Briefs _did_ start her stories of lovers with insults.

Though in Gohan's opinion, the stories about Vegeta were a _lot_ more interesting that anything he had ever heard her say about Yamcha…

"Look," Gohan said, a tired sigh escaping his lips as he changed tactics, "I just don't think that it would be a wise decision to tell a man who has been pining for you for ten years that you love him, especially since you have absolutely no idea what he has been doing for the last ten years."

Bulma bit down softly on her lower lip as she really considered the boy's words. "I guess you're right," she relented, shaking her head. "I should probably wait until I get a few things sorted out before we start dating again."

"Dating?!?" Gohan cried out. "Bulma, you can't do that!"

"Why not?" she shot back, her voice indignant. "You just told me that he's been _pining_ for me for ten years, and when I checked," she pushed on, holding up her left hand and pointing to her fourth finger, "I am still up for grabs."

The poor teenager put his face in his hands. Everything had gotten so out of control so fast that he couldn't come up with a way to resolve the situation.

"You don't know what's happened over the last twelve years," he simply said, his voice muffled by his hands.

"What?" Bulma demanded from him. "What happened, Gohan? What is so damn important about the last twelve years that that the very idea of me dating Yamcha has you downright horrified? I mean, is he married?"

"No!" Gohan automatically responded as he jumped into defensive mode.

"Am I?"

It was such a simple question, one that should have a simple answer. But nothing about Bulma and Vegeta's relationship had ever been simple, and Gohan was at an honest loss on how to respond. He held no knowledge of them ever having an actual wedding, nor did either of them wear wedding bands. But they did refer to each other as husband and wife, and they had been in relationship with each other for over ten years. Eight of which were good!

"I honestly don't know," Gohan finally said, refusing to meet her gaze. Before Bulma could get another word in, the teenager held up a hand to silence her. "Look, your love life is an area that _I_ am hardly the right person to be asking about. You've never actually talked that much to me about things that didn't involve science or my dad doing something stupid, and that's okay. It just means that I'm the wrong one to be talking to about that subject."

Bulma rose what little eyebrow she had at his statement. "Well, wouldn't you at least know if I got _married_?" she asked. "I mean, who gets married without telling anyone?"

"People keep all kinds of things to themselves," Gohan defended. "After all, I was four and a half before you even knew I had been born, let alone that my dad was expecting his first kid."

"Touché," the heiress consented. Knowing that she wasn't likely to get any more information from the clearly stressed out boy, she decided to change topics. "So, I hear that you've got a girlfriend. I bet she's a cutie," she said with a wink.

Gohan, while embarrassed about talking his own love life, was just grateful for the subject change. "Yeah, she is," he answered, scratching the back of his head in classic Son fashion.

"So tell me everything about her," Bulma practically squealed, getting comfy again on the bedspread. "Come on, I've got twelve years of gossip to catch up on. Don't keep me waiting!"

…

It was 8:32 in the evening when Bulma was healed. It was 8:33 when Vegeta felt the overwhelming urge to fly to back home as hard and as fast as he could. He had felt Bulma's energy level rise swiftly and dramatically, and he knew what that meant: she was healed.

Trunks had noticed only seconds after his father did, and had perked up instantly. Father and son exchanged a swift glance at each other before abandoning their meal and taking to the sky in two golden blazes.

At 8:34, Goku figured out what was going on as he sensed two Super Saiyan powers making a beeline for Capsule Corp. Abandoning his spar with Piccolo mid swing, Goku placed two fingers on his forehead. Even he wasn't fast enough to catch up to Vegeta when the prince had a head start, and he had a terrible feeling that the prince had to be stopped before he reached his destination.

As Goku was preparing to teleport away, Piccolo mentally informed Gohan of the situation, asking if all was well. Gohan had immediately responded, telling his mentor that the heiress still held no memory of the past twelve years. The Namek lunged toward his Saiyan counterpart, and just barely managed to grab on to Goku's shoulder before he phased out of sight. And at 8:35, the met the princes head on.

Piccolo had shoved himself to the side the moment they reappeared and braced his body, knowing that it was going to hurt like hell when the younger prince, with all his Super Saiyan energy, collided with him. But Piccolo remained confident that, if nothing else, he could bring the boy to a grinding halt.

And that's exactly what he did.

Goku, on the other hand, knew damn well that he couldn't just 'stop' Vegeta, nor was he dumb enough to try to. With almost no time to gather his bearings, he barely shifted to the left and extended his right arm. Vegeta had been focusing so much on getting to his destination that he didn't even notice Goku until it was too late, and that was exactly what the younger Saiyan was counting on. Goku grappled on to his prince, spinning both of them as they slammed into the forest ground.

"DAMN IT!" Vegeta hollered, struggling to get up. "The next time a member of your family does that to me, I'm going to kill them!"

"Vegeta, please calm down!" Goku begged, refusing to let go of the grip he had Vegeta completely locked in.

The smaller Saiyan glared up into Goku's eyes. "Kakarot," he growled, "if one more person tells me to calm down, I cannot be held accountable for my actions. I felt it, Kakarot! I felt her heal! Now get your fucking arms off of me and let me see her!" Vegeta ascended to level two, trying to force his way out of the grip.

Goku wasn't even a second behind in his own ascension. He quietly thanked Dende that Piccolo had tagged along to help. He was having a hard enough time restraining Vegeta alone. He wasn't sure he could have kept the temperamental prince at bay and restrained Trunks at the same time.

"Vegeta, I don't think you should go over there just yet," Goku calmly grit out, not caring for the struggle his captive was putting up.

"Why the hell not?" Vegeta grunted, refusing to give up his fight.

"Because she doesn't remember you," Piccolo's voice shouted from above.

Both Saiyans snapped their heads up. While Goku had been somewhat thinking about that, he had really come to stop Vegeta's seemingly ballistic flight out of instinct. He had never seriously thought that his oldest friend wouldn't remember. His arms loosened up, allowing Vegeta the perfect opportunity to get away.

But Vegeta did not take it. He was so stunned by the news that he powered down, staring blankly into Goku's chest as once again he had no idea how to handle his emotions. He seemed vaguely aware of the fact that Piccolo had knocked Trunks out, and a small part of him was grateful that the boy hadn't heard that news.

That part was dwarfed, though, by the burning sensation in his chest that he had spent almost three weeks repressing. All the stress, all the turmoil, all the pain and agony that his family had been going through finally felt like it was about to swallow him whole. He tilted his head to the side, not far enough to actually look at Piccolo, but just enough to let him know that he was being addressed.

"Take the boy to Kakarot's house," he calmly stated, his unseeing eyes seemingly fixed on a random tree. "If he wakes up before I return, tell him to remain there until I come for him."

While the Namek wanted to know where the prince would be returning _from_, he didn't dare argue with him at the moment. It was more than obvious that the Prince of Saiyan's was about to snap, and Piccolo knew that he had to remove Trunks from the vicinity immediately.

Slowly moving his head so that he was once again facing Goku's chest, Vegeta spoke once more. "Kakarot, if I can lock on to the energy of someone, could you teleport me there?" he quietly asked.

Goku let go of the prince entirely and took a step back. There was something about Vegeta's voice that just sent shivers down his spine, and it took him a moment to figure out what it was. Normally, when Vegeta was only slightly agitated and chose to keep his voice level, it was low and gravelly. But when Vegeta had first come to the Earth, when he was still evil, his voice was slightly higher, and had more of a rasp than anything else. And Vegeta's tone was just as it had been thirteen years earlier, with barely hidden insanity that had once consumed the prince.

"I…maybe," Goku finally answered. "You would have to let me read your mind though, Vegeta."

"That's fine," the prince replied, his eyes still blank and his voice still raspy. "I will permit you into my mind just far enough to know where we are going."

Goku took another step back. "Vegeta," he softly said, "can you at least tell me where you want me to take you?"

"Far away from the Earth," the prince distantly replied. "That is all you need to know."

The younger Saiyan swallowed hard. He had a bad feeling about letting Vegeta go wherever it was he wanted to go, but just as Piccolo had seen earlier, it was obvious that Vegeta was only minutes away from completely losing it. With a shaky hand, he put a hand on his prince's shoulder and raised two fingers to his forehead. "Have…have you found the energy signal you need?"

Vegeta mutely nodded, and allowed the younger man only far enough into his psyche to sense that one energy. The prince never even blinked as the world began to dissolve around him as Kakarot took him far, far away from his adopted home.

…

When they landed, Goku immediately let go of Vegeta and looked around. The world before him was disgusting. Everything seemed to be tinted a sickly shade of greenish yellow from the polluted sky. Crowded streets were filled with beggars, whores, and creatures that looked like they were engaged in seedy activity. From where he was standing, Goku could see nearly a dozen people injecting various drugs into their bodies, not caring at all that everyone could see them.

"What is this place?" he asked, coughing from the heavy, foul air.

Vegeta tilted his head to the side as he vaguely remembered the details of the world they stood on. "A rest stop on the way to hell," he replied. "There's nothing here but thieves, whores, and criminals. Every activity that one can do here is abominable. This is the homeland of sin."

A sinking feeling formed in Goku's stomach, dreading the answer to his next question. "Then why are we here?" he quietly asked.

He had no time to prepare for the powerful blast that suddenly tore through the packed crowds. People screamed and tried to flee as poorly constructed buildings went up in flames and the scent of burning corpses began to fill the air.

"Because I need this," hissed the prince, releasing a second blast into the crowd. His eyes flashed teal, but he still had not ascended.

Goku stood back, horrified at what he saw. "No," he whispered. "Vegeta, please don't do this…"

A third blast destroyed almost all that was left in the area, and Vegeta took to the skies, heading for his next victims. Wasting no time at all, he tore through the shanty town he had located, causing as much carnage and chaos as he could. He was so consumed with tearing the world apart that he barely felt the fist slam the side of his head.

"STOP THIS!" Goku screamed, already in stage two. "STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!"

But the prince did not stop. He didn't even slow down. It was almost as if Vegeta couldn't hear him. He simply continued to tear people apart and set their world ablaze. Goku struck the prince again, once more sending him flying, but it didn't help. Vegeta couldn't feel the pain from the blow. Instead, he used the momentum to send himself through a still standing shelter.

Tears began pouring down Goku's face as he flew after the prince. He wasn't sure why Vegeta hadn't powered up yet, but he planned on using it to his advantage. Racing as fast as he could, Goku opened his arms and once again trapped the prince in his grip.

Vegeta didn't even falter. Still able to move his arms below the elbow, he used one hand to jerk the back of Goku's pants down only a few inches as the other dug hard fingers into his tail scar, releasing a jolting energy. Goku howled in pain and collapsed, passing out from the pain. The poor Earth raised Saiyan had never thought that Vegeta would use that one vulnerability in a fight.

But this was not the Vegeta that Goku knew.

Almost an hour later, Goku found himself being kicked gently in the ribs. The tall Saiyan groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, his nose scrunching is disgust at the pungent odor around him. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as he remembered where he was and what was going on. He frantically looked around, and was horrified at what he saw.

The entire planet seemed to be on fire. There was nothing but flames and corpses as far as the eye could see. The greenish yellow sky had taken on a violent orange and black tint as the flames and smoke rose higher and higher. Dismembered and charred body parts lined the streets, and the only sound that could be heard was the fire ravishing the lands.

Nothing had survived.

Shaking with every movement, Goku staggered to his feet before he saw his prince beside him. Vegeta, who had left his house seventy minutes earlier completely clean in khaki pants and a blue shirt, was covered in blood and gore. The blank look in his eye was gone as he looked at the younger Saiyan. "We can go now," he quietly said, his voice back to normal.

"What did you do?" Goku whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the scene before him.

Vegeta glanced to the side, watching the world burn. "Calming down," he simply stated, giving a mild shrug with his words.

Horrified, Goku looked at his prince. "By murdering people?" he asked. "By _massacring_ and entire _planet_?"

Again, Vegeta simply shrugged. "So I blew off a little steam," he casually replied. "What's the big deal?"

This time, Vegeta did feel it as Goku's fist collided with his cheek. "FUCK!" he yelled, grabbing his face. "What the hell was that for?"

Tears once again began to roll down Goku's cheeks as he stared at his companion. "You don't even care?" he hoarsely whispered. "You annihilated every living thing on a planet, and you really don't care?"

Still rubbing his sore cheek, Vegeta knew damn well that he owed Kakarot an explanation. After all, if not for the younger man, Vegeta would have been unable to even reach this world in the first place. "Look, Kakarot," he calmly said, "I know that you like to think that every life is precious, and that everyone in the universe has redeeming qualities, but that's not even remotely true. I had you bring me here because I have been to this world before, and I knew what it was. No one here was ever going to do good with their lives. You don't come here to live. You come here to die. The only creatures that set foot on this planet are ones who already know that there is no hope left in life." Again, the prince offered a small shrug of consideration. "Really, I just sped the process along."

Goku shook his head, still in a state of disbelief. "Then why were you here?" he croaked out. "How could you have been here if the only people who set foot on the world are ones that want to die? Hell, _when_ were you here?"

Vegeta looked back at the burning world and bit his tongue. That was one part of his life that he could never tell anyone, not even Bulma. Never would he let any of them know that there had been a time in his life where all hope had seemed lost, and that there wasn't a point in trying anymore.

And he certainly would never tell them that it was just after the battle on Namek.

"I am no longer a threat to your world. Just take us back to Earth," he quietly asked, looking again at the younger man. "I have a son I need to look after."

Nodding along shakily, Goku placed two fingers on his forehead and signaled for the prince to come near. Taking one last glance and the now dead planet, Goku felt two more tears grace his face.

Armageddon had never looked so real…

/\/\/\


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: I openly admit that I'm not thrilled with how this chapter turned out, but this was the best I could get it for now.

/\/\/\

Gohan was standing just outside his front door, his arms crossed over his chest as he shifted nervously. He had been informed by his father only moments earlier the two purebloods were going to be returning to the Earth, and the teenager knew that they would need his high energy level in order to get home. He didn't mind playing sign post, really. But all of the knowledge that he had come into in the past few days was eating away at him, and he couldn't help but feel responsible.

Of course, it didn't take long before the young man saw his father and prince appear before him. Gohan closed his eyes and gagged slightly as the smell of gore hit his nostrils, and he quickly pinched his nose and turned away.

"The stream's about a half mile south of the house," he coughed, cracking an eye open at the prince. He covered his nose with his elbow and tossed a capsule at the shorter man. "There are clean clothes in there, but they're mine so they might be a little long on you. And don't worry, there's soap in there, too."

Vegeta looked curiously at the capsule, but silently accepted it and turned south to clean up. As he watched the prince disappear into the night, Goku turned again to his son. For the first time, Gohan saw the streaks left by tears that lined his father's face.

"So…are you okay?" he nervously asked.

Goku's lip began to quiver as he lowered his gaze. "It was horrible," he whispered. "The blood, the screaming, the…the carnage, Gohan…it was…" His large body began to quiver as he clearly remembered what he had seen on that planet. "Gohan, I've never seen or smelled or felt anything like that. I could actually _smell_ death, Gohan. I could _smell_ it…"

The teenager gave his father an empathetic smile. "I know, Dad," he quietly said as he placed a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. "I remember what it smelled like."

With a horrified look on his face, Goku looked his son in the eye. "When…"

"Piccolo," Gohan quietly answered. "His entire body was engulfed in a ki blast when we were fighting off the…" The teenager stopped before he finished the sentence. It was a force of habit to say they were fighting 'The Saiyans', but over the past few years he had found that he disliked that phrase. He almost felt like a traitor to his own blood for using those words, like he was calling himself the enemy. "…when Napa killed him," he finally finished.

With sad eyes, Goku looked back on his son. "How did you forget it?" the father asked. "How did you get that smell out of your head?"

Gohan quietly hugged his father. There was no way that he could tell his father that you don't ever forget that smell. He had always assumed that his father had already been exposed to it, that somewhere in the Saiyan's life he had smelled death before. It had been such an impacting part of Gohan's own childhood that it had never dawned on him that his father had not experienced the same thing.

The teenager continued to stroke his father's back in a comforting manner. The irony of the situation was anything but lost on him. He, the child, had to become the father figure for his own father.

"Why don't you go inside?" Gohan eventually said, stepping back from his father. "Take a nice hot shower, get cleaned up, and you'll feel a lot better."

Goku offered his son a weak smile. "You sound just like your mother," he quietly said.

Gohan simply smiled and stepped back, allowing his father access to the door. "I'll be in a little later," he said.

The pureblood didn't need to be told where his son was going. "Be careful," was all Goku said before stepping inside. He really, really needed to relax, and he had more than enough faith in his son's abilities to handle the situation.

As soon as his father had shut the door, Gohan flew south toward the stream. It only took him a few seconds before he spotted the prince cleaning off in the icy water. The hybrid cleared his throat loudly as he landed, wanting to make absolutely certain that the prince knew he was there. After all, the man's back was turned.

"That was unnecessary, boy," Vegeta stated as he ran the soap over his bloody hands.

Gohan simply shrugged. "I figured that you could sense me approaching, but I thought I would cover my bases, just to be safe."

The two stood in silence for several minutes before Vegeta finally spoke again.

"Why did you have this ready when we arrived?" he asked, still not turning to look at the boy.

Once again, Gohan offered a noncommittal shrug. "Piccolo brought your still unconscious son to my house and had my mom call me to tell me what happened. When I got home, he told me that you had asked Dad to take you to some unknown place way the hell away from the Earth. It just seemed to me like the only reason you would do that was to blow off a little steam." The teenager shifted his weight from foot to foot before adding, "Of course, I had assumed that you were going to be taking it out on _Dad_, so I had one ready for him, too."

Vegeta snorted. "I suppose your father told you what happened, then?"

"Well, not really," Gohan honestly answered. "But the smell, the funky colored blood, and the fact that you're the only one covered in it didn't leave a lot to figure out."

"And I suppose that when I turn around, you'll have that pathetic look in your eyes before you tell me that the Vegeta you know would never do that?"

It was Gohan's turn to snort. "Hardly," he responded. "The Vegeta I know takes out the bulk of his aggression in some form of violence. He's just a lot more selective on who he takes it out on these days than he was, say, fifteen years ago."

Vegeta froze in the river. "So you expect this sort of violent behavior from me."

It was a statement, clearly, and one that Gohan needed to think about before answering. "Look, Vegeta," he finally started, "I've known you my entire life. I've known you as my enemy, I've known you as my ally, I've known you as the father of my brother's best friend, I've known you as a sparring partner…hell, I've even known you as the guy I had to turn to when puberty hit to tell me what the hell was going on. I know you, Vegeta, and I know you pretty well."

The prince remained silent and facing away, knowing that the boy was not done.

"And because I know you, Vegeta," Gohan went on, "I know that you are best able to deal with your emotions in a physical manner. From what I've heard, when you're in a really bad mood, you usually just take it out on yourself in the gravity room. In the last year, you've been taking it out on Dad a lot. But for something like this, I'm really not surprised that you needed something a little more…substantial than trying to punch my dad in the face."

"And genocide does not bother you?" Vegeta sneered in return, still refusing to turn around.

Gohan shook his head. "Look, I'm not saying that it was the best way for you to handle it, but like I said earlier, I know you. And you, the way you are today, would not just pick a random planet and go to town on it. You would pick a place that was probably on its last leg anyway." The hybrid held his breath as he waited for a reaction, any reaction, which would prove his theory right. If he was right, then while what Vegeta did was wrong, it was forgivable.

If he was wrong, then they had a serious problem on their hands.

At long last, the prince turned and looked him in the eye. "You really aren't afraid of what I might do to this world, are you?" he asked.

Gohan almost shook as the wave of relief hit him. When Vegeta did something truly bad, he avoided eye contact. While he still didn't think that what Vegeta had done was, by any stretch of the imagination, _right, _at least it wasn't _too _far down on the 'wrong' list. Relived, Gohan shook his head. "I'm really not," he honestly replied. "You've called this planet your home for a long time now, Vegeta, and I know you wouldn't take your anger out on it." _Again_, he added as an afterthought.

When he saw that the prince was about to argue with him, Gohan held up his hands in surrender. "Look," he defensively said, "we both know that you've made some less than spectacular decisions concerning the safety of this planet and its inhabitants in the past, but no matter what you say, I still believe that you won't do anything like that again. And there is nothing you can say or do to change my mind."

He drew a shaky breath, trying to regain his nerves. Talking bluntly to Vegeta had always seemed like a bad idea, but he meant every word and refused to back down. "Do you want Trunks to spend the night at our place?" he genuinely asked. "I mean, he is already asleep. Do you want to just leave him there for now? We really don't mind."

Vegeta stepped out of the cold water and began to get into the clean clothes, thinking carefully about that proposition. It was so tempting to say yes, to let someone else deal with the emotional child and let someone else tell him that his mother still didn't know who he was. He had already had to tell his son that once, and he never wanted to see that look on his son's face again. But such an act would be cowardly. He had run away from almost all of his emotional problems in the past, but he refused to run away from one that so clearly involved his son.

"No," he firmly replied. "I will take him back with me."

Gohan cracked a small smile. Things were hard…and _weird_…at the moment, but he was confident that it would all turn out alright.

\\\\\\

Back at the house, Trunks was awake and trying to handle the news as well as he could. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but Trunks refused to cry out loud. "So, if I walked into her room tomorrow, she would have no idea who I am?"

Chi-Chi bit down softly on her lower lip before answering. "I'm sorry, Trunks, but yes."

"Then I want to see her tomorrow."

The mother was not expecting that statement, and was more than a little stunned. "Trunks, I really don't think that's such a good idea…"

The nine year old boy quickly wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. "Don't worry, Auntie Chi-Chi. I promise I won't let her know she's my mom. I just want to talk to her again, even if she doesn't know who I am."

The raven haired woman moved from her position on the chair onto the bed. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around the boy. "I'll tell you what Trunks," she gently spoke, giving a squeeze, "I'll call Bulma tonight and see if I can set up a chance for a bunch of us to go over and spend some time with her. Not the whole gang, but maybe just my family and yours."

Trunks' bright blue eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked. "You'd let me do that?"

Again, Chi-Chi gave him a hug. "Really," she stated. "And if we get there, and you change your mind…"

"I won't change my mind!" the nine year old insisted.

Chi-Chi chuckled lightly as she hugged him a third time. "I know you probably won't, honey, but just in case you do, which would be _perfectly okay_, just come over to me and give my leg a little hug. I'll take that as a signal, and we'll come straight back here."

Trunks thought carefully about the offer. "I won't change my mind," he firmly stated, looking his best friend's mother in the eye.

Chi-Chi offered a silent nod.

"And I promise that I won't let her know she's my mom," the little prince went on.

Chi-Chi nodded again, offering the boy another squeeze.

Trunks nuzzled into Chi-Chi's shoulder and hugged her back. "Can you make the phone call now, Auntie Chi-Chi?" he asked, his voice muffled by her dress.

The human glanced at the clock. It was almost ten o'clock at night, but Chi-Chi knew that Bulma was a night owl by nature, and that after spending almost twenty days stuck in bed, the heiress wasn't likely to turn in early. "I think I can do that, kiddo," she said, pulling back slightly and ruffling his hair. "I'll be right back."

The young prince nodded eagerly, and the mother couldn't help but feel amused by his actions. No matter how badly Trunks wanted to prove that he was already a man, his mannerisms still screamed 'adorable little boy'. Goten was the exact same way. They both tried to be tough, like their fathers. It really was adorable. Quietly, she descended the staircase and rounded the corner into the kitchen, grabbing the phone.

She was so caught up in thinking of the antics of the boys that she forgot just why she was making the phone call. On sheer autopilot, her fingers flew over the numbers and she cradled the receiver between her shoulder and her ear. As she reached for a dishrag to clean the counters with, she suddenly remembered why she was doing what she was doing. As she frantically tried to figure out exactly what she was going to say, she greeted by an enthusiastic heiress.

"Chi-Chi!" Bulma exclaimed. "Oh, I'm so happy you called!"

The dark haired woman blinked in surprise. "You are?" she asked. She wanted to slap herself for the stupidity of her response.

"Of course!" Bulma giggled. "I've barely been able to socialize with anyone for way too long. I need someone to talk to, to hang out with. Hell, you're the perfect person for me to let my hair down with!" There was a pause on the line before she added, "You know, so to speak…"

It took Chi-Chi a moment to remember that Bulma, for the time being, was bald. "Oh, right," she softly said. "Well, I can't come over and party tonight, but I was thinking that we might get our families…and a couple friends…over for a get together tomorrow. Not the whole gang," she quickly stated, "but, you know, a small party."

Over at Capsule Corp, Bulma couldn't help but pout a little bit. She was really looking forward to going wild with her newfound freedom, but she supposed that a small party was better than no party at all. "That sounds like a lot of fun, Chich!" she finally responded. "What do you want me to do? Oh, do you want me to invite everyone? I could do that!"

"Just make sure you're dressed. I'll handle everything else."

"Chi-Chi," the heiress whined, "I've been bored out of my life for almost three weeks now! Let me do _something!_"

Even though she knew the other woman couldn't see it, the younger woman gave a sympathetic smile. "Look, honey," she said, wiping down her counter tops, "we don't want your brain to get _completely_ overloaded tomorrow. Remember, you can't remember anything."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "How long have you been working on that gem?"

"About four seconds," the brunette answered, smiling. "The point is, you're going to be slammed with a lot tomorrow and I think it's best if you're well rested for it."

Bulma flopped on her bed as suppressed the urge to groan. "Chi-Chi, I spent my youth going on crazy adventures with Goku. What could be _that_ big a deal to me?"

Chi-Chi felt her blood cool slightly as she quickly found an answer. "When you meet Goten tomorrow, you'll understand."

The scientist laughed. "That much, huh?"

"Imagine, if you will, Goku as a child, only with half the attention span and about fifty times the power."

"You're right, I need to be well prepared for that," Bulma responded with a laugh. "So who's coming?"

Chi-Chi waved her hand, not caring that she was alone, "I told you, I'm taking care of that. And don't argue with me, because you know that I can go as long as you can!"

Again, Bulma laughed. "I dunno, it could be fun to have an argument of that caliber. A battle for the ages!"

The brunette rolled her eyes. _Well, I guess that solves the mystery of his initial appeal to her_, she thought. To that day, no one but Vegeta and Bulma knew how they had become a couple. Actually, at that exact moment, even Bulma didn't know how it happened. "Some other time," she promised. "Just brace yourself."

"Deal," Bulma said. "I don't suppose that you've got time to have a gab fest right now, would you?"

"I wish I did," Chi-Chi honestly answered, "but right now, there's a little boy upstairs who needs to be tucked back into bed."

The two women exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes more before hanging up. All things considered, that conversation had gone quite well. As for the next day, Chi-Chi figured that it would be enough to surprise Bulma with the idea of Vegeta as an ally. That alone was going to be a fun conversation…

Looking up, Chi-Chi pointed an accusatory finger toward the heavens. "So help me, Dende, if you don't help us out on this one, I will snap off your antennae!"

Somewhere in the distance, a Namekien twitched nervously…

/\/\/\

Author's Note: Okay, it's shameless plug time.

I know this is an odd request, but please, if you have a minute, check out my profile. Some of my California friends are doing a walk for the cure for multiple sclerosis, and I put a link to their website on my profile page. I wish I could walk with them, but since I'm not in the same state and don't have, you know, time and money, I decided to help out another way.

Thanks, guys!


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Okay, I am going to stop saying "I'll update soon" because I have discovered that it is only when I say that that I end up not updating for over a month…

///////

"I still don't think this is such a good idea," Gohan muttered, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

Chi-Chi just shook her head, putting the last of the dishes away. "I know, honey, but it's too late to call it off now. If we took this away from Trunks, he would throw an absolute fit." After a moment of hesitation, a hint of a smile crossed her features. "Actually, his mother would, too!"

Gohan bit down softly on his lower lip. "Mom, Vegeta really didn't seem that happy about this idea when we told him last night," he hesitantly said.

"Oh, Vegeta didn't seem _anything_ when we told him last night," Chi-Chi countered. "No, he didn't seem happy about it, but he didn't exactly seem angry or upset about it either. We've already committed to this, Gohan."

Glancing to the side, Gohan softly added, "He's repressing his emotions."

Checking her bag one last time, Chi-Chi just shrugged her shoulders. "People do that. It may not be the healthiest way in the world for him to deal with his problems, Gohan," she muttered, organizing a few things, "but it's how he's dealing with it, and it's not like it's going to kill anyone."

Gohan turned toward the stairs, mumbling about getting Goten ready. It seemed that his father had not told his mother about the events of the previous night. Though Gohan badly wanted to talk to someone about what had happened, he respected Vegeta more than enough to not say a word.

As he headed for his little brother, Gohan silently prayed that he would be able to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.

…

"Hey, Dad?" Trunks asked, coming down the stairs of their new home.

"Hn?" was his only response.

The purple haired boy shifted nervously on his feet. "What do I do if, like, Goten mentions that Mom is, well, my mom?"

Vegeta knelt down to tie his shoe, not looking at his son. "Do what you always do," he simply said.

"What?" Trunks asked, genuinely confused. He couldn't think of a single moment in his life that he could use for reference.

The elder prince stood, turned, and put a hand on his young son's shoulder. "Look frustrated, call him an idiot really loudly, and come up with some perfectly bullshit thing to lecture him about."

Trunks blinked in surprise at his father. "Do you really think that would work?" he wondered out loud?

"Trust me," Vegeta responded, turning around, "your mother has fallen for that act every time."

After a few minutes of silence, Trunks once again shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. "Hey, Dad?" he asked again.

"Hn?"

"What do I call her?" the boy questioned. "I mean, I can't call her Mom, but I don't really want to call her, like, Bulma or Mrs. Briefs or something."

"Avoid it," his father answered without hesitation. "I sincerely doubt that there will come a situation that will leave you with no possible way around it."

Several moments passed before Trunks once again shifted nervously. "Hey, Dad?"

"Hn?"

"Thanks for agreeing to this."

Vegeta only offered his son a silent nod before the two quietly took to the sky, heading slowly to the place they had once called home.

…

Bulma frowned at her reflection. She had tried everything she could think of, shy of actually putting on a wig, to detract from her baldness. No matter what she tried, though, it was still painfully obvious. There was an extremely pale, barely noticeable layer of blue starting to form on her head, but even with it, she still looked completely bald.

"Damn it," she growled, peeling off the blouse she had just tried on. "I've got half a mind to go back to Namek, take their dragon balls, and just _wish_ my damn hair back!" Glaring at the mirror, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, do I want to go with the little old lady had, the head scarf that makes my head look proportionally too small, or just go with bald and beautiful?"

Sparing the clock a glance, she realized that her guests were supposed to arrive at any moment. "Oh, screw it!" she finally said, throwing her blouse on the floor. "Bald and beautiful!"

A knock on the door startled the heiress. "Damn it," she growled, grabbing the nearest shirt she could. "I'm not ready!"

"And your doors aren't soundproof," a familiar voice called from the other side.

Bulma blinked, pausing the buttoning of her royal blue shirt. "Krillen?" she called through the door.

"You know someone else who sounds like this?" the former monk laughed. Before she could answer, he went on. "I've got a couple of hyperactive little guys out here who are dying to say hi. Can I let them in, or are they going to have to overpower me and break down the door?"

A few words were spoken by a young, unknown voice, but they were too muffled by the door for Bulma to make them out. Fortunately for her, Krillen was happy to translate. "I have just received several reminders that they can subdue me, get passed me, and enter by force, if need be." A scuffle was heard, followed by a round of giggles. "Bulma, save me!"

Making sure that she was modest, Bulma put her hand on the doorknob. "Never fear," she called out, "Bulma's here!"

The poor heiress never had a chance to figure out what hit her. The door flew open with enough force to launch the startled genius all the way back to her bed. As she tried to get her bearings, she found herself tackled down and surrounded by cries of, "Auntie Bulma! Auntie Bulma!"

"Oof," Bulma grunted as the larger of the two landed squarely on her chest.

"Kids!" Krillen cried out, fearing for the heiress' safety. "Be gentle!"

"Oops," the little boy muttered, crawling off and giggling. "Sorry, Auntie Bulma. Sometimes I forget."

As Bulma regained her senses, she couldn't help but stare at the little boy before her. "Oh, wow…" she whispered.

The children exchanged confused glances at her reaction, but Krillen only chuckled. "I know, right?" he laughed. "I told you, they were completely identical!"

Bulma continued to stare at the boy, completely absorbed in the similarities between the child and what his father had looked like at that age. "You must be Goten," she finally said, smiling at the boy.

Goten beamed up at her. "You remember me!"

"Sorry, kiddo," she said, ruffling her fingers through his wild, thick hair. "Krillen told me all about you."

"Aw, phooey," Goten grunted, crossing his arms and pouting. Bulma felt her heart aching slightly at dashing the young boy's hopes, but when five seconds later he shrugged it off, giggled, and said, "Oh, well!" she felt fine.

Turning to the little girl on the bed, Bulma smiled again. "And you must be Marron," she teased, pulling her in for a gentle hug.

"Yup!" she giggled, wrapping her arms around the genius. "And because I'm not a dumb boy, I know you don't remember me, but Daddy told you all about me." Without missing a beat, she whipped her little blond pigtails around and stuck her tongue out at Goten.

"Hey!" Goten exclaimed. "I'm not dumb!"

"You're a boy, boy's are dumb, so you're dumb!" the girl countered.

"Well, Trunks is really smart, and he's a boy, so that means that you're wrong and _you're_ the dumb one!"

Bulma blinked in surprise. "Who's Trunks?" she asked.

"I am."

Bulma's eyes drifted back to her bedroom door. She had been so caught off guard by the two hyperactive children that she hadn't seen Krillen standing there with a quiet little boy by his side.

"Oh," she softly said, "I'm sorry, Trunks, but no one told me about you…"

Though the boy offered a casual shoulder shrug, she could see the hurt in his bright blue eyes. "It's okay," he mumbled. "I didn't think that they would."

"Well, come on up here!" she invited, patting some open space I the bed. "I want to get to know all about you!"

Trunks hopped up on the bed, but while the other kids had been giddy and happy, this boy seemed shy and nervous. "Hi," he quietly spoke, looking at his lap.

"Hello, Trunks," she softly said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know we've probably met before, but…"

"You can't remember anything from the last twelve years," the nine year old filled in. "Since I'm younger than twelve, you don't remember I ever existed."

Bulma was taken slightly aback by the boy's bluntness, but tried to let it slide. After all, if someone she had known her whole life just forgot all about her one day, she knew she wouldn't be able to hide her disappointment, either. "You seem like a pretty smart boy," she complemented.

Trunks could feel the blush spread across his face, and he made sure to keep his eyes away from her. "Thank you," he murmured.

Bulma carefully studied to boy on her bed. "Okay, I know that Goten came from Goku and Chi-Chi, and Marron belongs to Krillen and…" Bulma spared a glance at the door. "…Eighteen? Is that what her name is?"

Krillen gave a silent affirmative nod.

"Krillen and Eighteen," Bulma said again, getting back on her train of thought. "So tell me, Trunks, can you help me out and tell me how you fit into the crazy jigsaw puzzle that makes up this group?"

The room fell deathly silent as everyone stared at Trunks. Making sure his eyes were averted, the young prince cleared his throat. "I was born in to it, like they were."

"Well, that makes sense," Bulma slowly said, figuring out how to get the information she wanted. She decided to settle on the direct approach. "But whose kid are you?"

Trunks squirmed under his mother's curious watch. Everyone in the group, even the children now, knew that Vegeta had once been the greatest threat to the well being of the Earth. They also knew that as far as Bulma's mind was concerned, he was still their top enemy. "I'll tell you later," Trunks mumbled. "My dad wasn't a part of the group twelve years ago, and I guess you should probably get to know him first."

Though the child's logic didn't make any sense to her, Bulma decided not to press it too hard. "Okay, so what about your mom?"

For the first time, Trunks looked up and locked his eyes with his mother's. "She's not with us anymore," he firmly said. "It's just me and my dad."

"Oh," Bulma whispered, shifting back slightly, "I'm sorry."

Again, Trunks shrugged. "You couldn't have known," he factually stated.

From his uncomfortable position in the doorway, Krillen cleared his throat. "Well," he nervously said, clapping his hands together, "now you know what all the kids look like, so how about we go down and get this party started?"

"Yea, a party!" Goten cheered, jumping up and pumping his fist in the air. "Mommy made a lot of good food for us to eat, and I'm gonna get there first!" In a blur of black and orange, the little boy flashed out of the room.

"Hey!" Marron shouted, scrambling to her feet, "no fair! You got powers!" The tiny blonde bounced off the bed and ran as fast as she could, trying to catch her friend even though she knew she couldn't.

Krillen laughed from the doorway. "Bulma, you're going to want to run if you want to get any food," he chuckled. "Goten's just like his dad when it comes to eating. If it's in front of him and someone says it's edible, he will eat it and he will eat it fast."

Bulma giggled. "It must be some crazy Saiyan thing. Thank Kami that's the only trait that Goku kept!" She paused for a moment before adding, "Well, I guess his urge to fight and his psycho strength are byproducts of that, too, but I'm glad he's not the freak the rest of them were." With practiced ease, the heiress got off her bed and began to head downstairs. She paused as soon as she hit the doorway, turning to the child that still sat on her bed. "Trunks, don't you want to come, too?"

Bulma hadn't seen the look that had been on his face when she called the Saiyans freaks. Her back had been to him, so the heart breaking pain that single phrase caused remained unknown to her. By the time she had turned back to him, he had slid a stoic mask on to his pained features.

"Sure," he bluntly stated. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom while I'm up here."

Offering a single shoulder shrug, Bulma turned away from him. "Well, you seem to know where everything is. I'll see you down there!" Turning to her short friend, she asked Krillen if he was coming along.

"I, uh, need to use the bathroom, too," was all he said, waving her off.

Bulma could tell that something was up, but she could also tell that they wanted her to be gone before they did anything. "Okay," she hesitantly said. "Well, I'll be downstairs waiting for both of you."

As soon as she was gone, Krillen entered the room all the way. "How are you, kid?" he asked, placing a hand on the young prince's shoulder.

Trunks shrugged, his head lowered and his bangs dangling in his eyes. "Okay, I guess," he mumbled. "I mean, it's nice to see Mom all happy and healthy, but…"

When the child didn't finish his sentence, the former monk offered him a small hug. "Hey, it's okay," he reassuringly said. "You know that if you want to go home, you can."

"I am home!" Trunks hissed, glaring at his companion.

Krillen bit down on his lip, wishing he hadn't used that phrase. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. What I meant to say, Trunks, is do you want to leave?"

Once again, the boy lowered his head. "No," he quietly answered, "but I would like to be alone for a while."

Krillen nodded, moving away from the child. "Just let me know if you need anything, kid," he offered, giving him one last glance before leaving the room.

…

"She's coming," Gohan softly said. He knew it was an unnecessary statement, that everyone else could sense her energy as it descended the stairs, but he felt as though he still needed to say it. No one said a word in response, but they all offered a nod of understanding. Nervously, the teenager glanced to the corner his prince was standing in. Vegeta hadn't said a word since he had arrived, but Gohan tried to soothe his nerves by reminding himself that Vegeta rarely, if ever, spoke at social functions.

Goten suddenly came barreling into the room, clearly making a break for the food. "Yummy!" he yelled, making a dive for it. Gohan and Goku lunged simultaneously, both of them having to pull back hard to stop the child from careening in to the food table.

"Oh no you don't, squirt," Gohan grunted, pulling his brother back.

"If I have to wait," Goku added, "so do you!"

As they lowered the boy to the ground, they heard a furious stomping coming for them. "You cheated!" Marron shouted, running hard and angrily into the room. "You used powers!"

"They're not powers, I'm just faster than you!" Goten shot back, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Humans can't do it, so they _are_ powers, so you _cheated!_" the blonde girl shouted louder.

"Nuh-uh!" countered the demi-Saiyan. "Your daddy, Yamcha, and Tien can all run real fast, and they're human, so it's _not_ a power and I _didn't_ cheat!"

"It is too a power!" argued the little girl.

Goten stuck his tongue out at her. "You're just mad because you can inherit being Saiyan, but not being part robot!" As Marron opened her mouth for her counterargument, she found herself cut off.

"Is the conversation here always this intellectually stimulating?" Bulma laughed, entering the room.

"Bulma!" everyone called out. The heiress found herself swarmed by old friends, all of them needing to see for themselves that she really was okay. She laughed jovially as she felt a half dozen hands grabbing and her shoulders, arms, and head as everyone tried to greet her at the same time.

"Okay, okay, give me some room!" she giggled, pushing them back lightly. She had seen most of them while she was still injured, but she had discovered that they all seemed to look somewhat different when the room was lit and she wasn't on morphine. "Wow, look at you guys!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure it's been twelve years since Namek? The only one who looks any older is Gohan!"

Chi-Chi rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know I'm an old lady now," she teased.

"Hey, watch it!" Bulma countered. "You're younger than me, and I, clearly, am still young." In truth, Bulma had long ago done the math and figured out that she was just over forty, but as long as she only felt like she was in her late twenties, she didn't care. "Therefore, _you_ are young."

"How about me, Bulma?" Goku asked, acting like the big kid he was at heart. "Do I look any different?"

The heiress carefully looked her oldest friend up and down. "No wrinkles, no fine lines, no change in skin tone, no obvious new scars in twelve years…do you Saiyans just not age?"

Goku chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I guess not!" He glanced over at a blonde woman who seemed to be standing away from the festivities. "Hey, Eighteen, do androids get older?"

Bulma slowly put two and two together in her head. "Eighteen's not human," she reasoned out loud to Chi-Chi, "but her daughter is?"

"Don't ask me," the younger mother answered with a shrug. "I don't know how it works, and she and I have never been close enough for me to feel comfortable asking."

The scientist nodded along, mentally filing away that piece of information. "I suppose if you're a part of this group and you're going to settle down, you need someone with just as strange a back story. Speaking of which, what's the deal with Gohan's girlfriend?"

Chi-Chi blinked in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"All I could get out of Gohan was that she's beautiful, a fighter, and has a temper that goes with yours and mine. But he also said that she knew he wasn't totally human."

"So?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "We both know that 'normal' people can't accept what we deal with, so she clearly has some kind of history. What is it? And why isn't she here?"

Chi-Chi laughed. "Oh, that's a long story," she responded. "Well, not the why isn't she here part. She's with her father on the other side of the world for a couple days. Tell you what, why don't we grab something to eat before we let the Saiyan's attack the food, and I'll tell you all about my future daughter-in-law."

Bulma's jaw dropped. "Gohan's _engaged_?!?" she shouted.

Everyone stopped talking and turned toward Gohan, who had already started waiving his hands defensively. "Mom, stop telling people that! It's not true!"

"I was married when I was your age," his mother pointed out.

As mother and son began their usual back and forth on the subject, Bulma slinked away toward Goku. "Is she always like this about getting Gohan married?"

Goku, trying really hard to not drool over the food on the table, just nodded. "Yeah, at least in the last year. I hate saying this, but I have no idea what she was like when I was gone."

"Gone?" Bulma asked with a surprised blink. "Where were you?"

"Dead," Goku casually said, still eyeing the food.

Bulma opened her mouth to ask what the hell her friend was talking about, but a movement in the doorway caught her eye. She watched carefully as Trunks entered the room silently. The boy seemed almost painfully shy to her, and she just wanted to go over and hug him. She watched as the child rounded the corner of the garden, and was surprised when she saw a hand reach out from around the wall and landed on the boy's shoulder.

"_She's not with us anymore. It's just me and my dad."_

As she remembered his words, she began walking toward him. Though she knew that the man would be a stranger to her, she wanted to make sure she greeted everyone who had come to see her. Hell, she had even planned to talk to Krillen's beautiful, if not creepy, wife.

The rest of the group had gotten so caught up in Chi-Chi and Gohan's tiff that they hadn't noticed that Bulma was wandering off until it was too late. The heiress confidently strode to the edge of the building, turning to meet this new group member.

As soon as she saw him, she let out a blood curdling scream.

/////////


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: A thousand apologies, my overwhelmingly wonderful readers! I caught the flu (standard variety, not swine!), and it would appear that while sick, I can't type to save my life. Seriously, I would think "J" and hit "Q". I was waaaaaay off. On the plus side, I've discovered that high fevers are a wonderful source of creativity, so there will likely be a plethora of updates and new stories in the next couple weeks.

And your support has been…wow…have I mentioned that you guys are awesome? Well, you are!

/\/\/\

Bulma's scream was long and shrill. In her panic, she stumbled backwards, very nearly loosing her balance. She frantically rounded the corner and flattened herself against the wall in a feeble attempt to hide.

"Oh, crap," Gohan muttered, rushing over to the frightened heiress. The rest of the group quickly surrounded her, all of them trying to calm her down simultaneously. Unfortunately, as anyone who has ever been overwhelmed can verify, being completely surrounded only causes panic to set in even deeper. Desperately, Bulma tried to get away from the crowd.

"Bulma!" Goku finally shouted, gripping her roughly by the shoulders, "It's okay! Get a grip!"

On the verge of hyperventilating, Bulma caught Goku's eye. "It's…it's…he's…"

"With us," Gohan calmly supplied, gently placing a hand on her back. "Vegeta's with us now, Bulma, and he has been for over a decade."

Slowly, Bulma regained control over her breathing. She didn't feel any less tense, but she could at least process basic information again. "Vegeta…_the_ Vegeta…the one who murdered Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Piccolo, and even his own partner…the one that savagely beat Gohan and Krillen…the one that broke every single bone in Goku's body in multiple places, damn near crippling him…the one who hunted us all the way to Namek…_that_ Vegeta…is on our side?"

Goku let out a sigh of relief and smiled at his oldest friend. "Oh, good, you understand!"

That comment alone almost left the poor scientist flabbergasted. Turning her attention to Gohan, she softly asked, "Do we _want_ him on our side?"

"We do," Krillen verified. "Seriously, Bulma, once you get to know him, he's not that bad."

Still not fully believing her ears, Bulma turned to her only female friend. "Chi-Chi?"

The younger woman softly bit down on her lip before answering. "Bulma, I will always think of him as an arrogant son of a bitch, but I also know that he stands with us. And Krillen's right, he's not _that_ bad." _Occasionally_, she mentally added.

Leaning forward, Bulma peeked back around the corner. There he was, the Saiyan that had haunted her nightmares, standing quietly in her indoor garden. His face didn't seem to hold any expression at all. It still seemed too far fetched that the monster that had hunted them across the stars could be with them.

But then her eyes shifted down, and slowly she felt her hatred fade. Trunks, that sweet, shy little boy that had lost his mother, was standing with his back to the Saiyan Prince. There was no space at all between them, and the boy had his head leaning back against the man's leg. And more than anything else, she saw the hand that was resting on the boy's shoulder.

"Trunks is Vegeta's son…" she whispered. "Vegeta has a son…"

Krillen laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's pretty much it." Glancing around quickly, the former monk tried to change the subject. "So, Chi-Chi, why don't you tell us all about why Gohan and Videl need to give you grandchildren!"

"Hold it," Bulma snapped, holding up her hand. "Is Trunks a pureblooded Saiyan?"

"Oh, not at all," Krillen casually said, trying to wave her off. "So, about those grandchildren…"

Bulma's eyebrows furrowed. "So I'm guessing that means that he's half human then, right?"

Krillen rolled his wrist and glanced around, trying to hide his anxiety. "Well, sure, if you want to put a label on the poor kid, but as I was saying, if Gohan and Videl got married, say, tomorrow, then they could have kids by…"

"So," the scientist reasoned, "that means that Vegeta…and some human woman…"

"Mommy, I'm hungry!"

All of the adults whipped around and looked at Goten. In the chaos that had ensued from Bulma's shock, they had all but forgotten the two poor children who wanted nothing more than lunch.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry!" Chi-Chi apologized, rushing to her youngest son. "We'll have lunch right now, won't we, guys!"

"Ooh, the food!" Goku exclaimed, suddenly lighting up. "I actually forgot about it!"

Yamcha laughed loudly. "Write it down folks, history was just made! Son Goku, the Saiyan garbage disposal, has actually forgotten about food!"

"Stop the presses!" Krillen joined in. "It'll never happen again!" To himself, the diminutive man silently thanked Dende for the distraction. Anything that would help them buy enough time to try to iron out the situation was appreciated.

As the majority of the group migrated toward the food, pulling Bulma along with them, the two princes stood their ground. Neither one of them seemed at all interested in the meal any longer. "Dad," Trunks whispered as the others began their meal.

Vegeta didn't respond in any way. He just stood there, staring at the retreating form of his woman.

"Dad," Trunks said again, slightly louder, "too tight."

"Hn?" Vegeta grunted, still looking after Bulma.

"Too tight, Dad, too tight!" the boy whispered as loudly as he could.

Vegeta glanced down and realized what his son was talking about. As Bulma had freaked out, his grip on his son had been steadily getting tighter and tighter. He swiftly removed his hand from the boy.

Trunks wanted to rub out his sore shoulder, but he opted for his father's trademark stoicism. He didn't want to show any sign of weakness. Not then. Not when the others still might see him. And certainly not where his father could see him. No, it was time to be strong.

"Restore circulation."

The young prince looked up at his father, confusion evident in his eyes. "What?"

"Blood flow in your shoulder was interrupted," Vegeta replied, his voice void of any and all emotion. "In order to minimize any ill effects, rub it to increase circulation. Any injury, including stiffness, can be used by an enemy."

"And you should never let your enemy have any form of advantage on you if at all avoidable," Trunks finished. The boy immediately began to rub out is sore muscles. "Got it." As he rolled his joint around, he glanced up at his father. "So, that went well…"

Vegeta glared at his son. "Now is not the time for smart assed comments, boy."

"No, seriously," Trunks sincerely replied, looking up. "It actually went better than I thought it was going to. I mean, yeah, Mom screamed and totally wigged out, but everyone else jumped in and calmed her down enough for her to let it go for now."

The pureblood considered his son's words for a moment. True enough, as Bulma had begun to become hysterical, every single other person there had jumped in to assure her that he was no longer a threat.

_Well, scar face was quiet_, he mused, _but at least he didn't make things worse…_

It was a strange sensation that washed through him at that moment. In all the years he had spent on that world, he had always considered himself the outsider. With few exceptions, the rest of the group treated him, if nothing else, with caution. They were afraid of him, and he actually did like it that way. The only time any of them would step up and even attempt to aide him was when they needed him for some purpose.

He knew that they weren't doing it for his sake. He knew that they were doing it for his wife and his son. Still, knowing that he had people honestly on his side…it was an odd sensation.

"Hey, Dad?" Trunks quietly asked.

"Hn?"

The young prince turned and looked up at his father. "What if Mom's memory doesn't come back?"

"It will," Vegeta calmly stated.

Trunks hardly seemed convinced. "But how do you know?"

"I do."

"But…"

"If nothing else, there are the dragon balls," Vegeta snapped. "We can wish her memory back, if need be."

Trunks didn't say another word. He knew that tone, and he knew it well. The time for questions was over, and any further attempts to ask them would not be well received. "Let's get some food," he quietly said.

Vegeta just silently followed. He did not want to think about what his son had just said. He had to have faith that Bulma's memory would come back, and that it would come back soon. If they had to wait for the dragon balls to recharge, it would take over five more months for him to get his wife back. Vegeta wasn't sure he could last another month without her.

He was certain that he could not make it five more months.

/\/\/\

"So Vegeta has a half human son?" Bulma quietly asked Chi-Chi as they went down the buffet together.

The younger mother nodded. "Trunks is nine years old," she clarified. "He and Goten have been best friends since the day they met. Usually, they're practically joined at the hip."

The heiress smiled softly. "They're that close, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Chi-Chi laughed. "They two of them are so close, it's a little scary sometimes."

Bulma laughed. "So, why didn't you guys tell me about Trunks before? I mean, I must have scared the crap out of him just now!"

Chi-Chi finished assembling a plate of food for herself and moved over to a picnic table. "Honey, you've been in critical condition. It wasn't until last night that we were able to really talk to you without worrying about killing you. Now, looking at how you, fully healed, just responded to finding Vegeta here, how do you think you would have dealt with it while you were hurt?"

The heiress rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, it would have killed me." Popping a baby carrot in her mouth, Bulma considered what she had just learned. "So, dare I ask how Vegeta managed to procreate?"

"Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much…"

"Chi-Chi!"

The raven haired woman giggled. "Sorry, couldn't help it." Offering a casual shoulder shrug, Chi-Chi offered as much truth as she could. "None of us know exactly what happened. Trunks was a few months old when we found out about him, and Vegeta was hardly in a relationship at the time. But," she quickly pointed out, "as much as I dislike that man, I must admit that he does take care of his son."

Bulma slowly nodded, trying to process this news. "It's just so hard to think of _Vegeta_ as a single parent…"

_You're not alone_, Chi-Chi thought, fighting the urge to grimace. Though no one had interacted with the princes much since the accident, it was no secret that both of them were struggling on their own. Though, she had to admit to herself, it probably had more to do with the stress of the situation than anything else. "So, what do you think of all the little ones?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

A bright smile lit up Bulma's features. As the two women began to talk about how cute the three youngest members of the team were, Goku, sitting across the room, frowned.

"I'm not sure I'm okay with this," he softly told Gohan.

Gohan took a sip of his soda, strategically placing himself between his father's viewpoint and Bulma. "It'll be fine," Gohan calmly assured.

Goku's brow furrowed. "We shouldn't be lying to her like this," he quietly insisted.

"We're not lying," Krillen gently pointed out. "We're just leaving out certain pieces of the story. For now."

The Saiyan did not seem comforted by that. "Leaving out important information is as bad as lying," he pointed out. "We're leading her to believe something that isn't real. That's what lying is, and we shouldn't be doing it."

"For now," Krillen softly pointed out again. "Goku, I don't like doing this either, but just _seeing_ Vegeta caused her to flip out. Do you really think she could deal with finding out that _she's_ the one that slept with him right now?"

Goku sucked on his cheek as he considered that. "I guess not," he finally relented, "but I still don't think this is a good idea."

The others just silently went back to their food, opting to drop the conversation. There was no way they could change Goku's mind, and none of them were much more comfortable with it than he was.

Never had a meal at a party passed so quietly.

/\/\/\

As the evening wore on, the group moved outside. While she had made sure to interact with almost everyone, Bulma had stuck extremely close to Chi-Chi and Gohan throughout the day. She kept near them in part due to her comfort with them and in part because they seemed to be the only two who really knew what was going on. Krillen was more than pleasant, but he was constantly changing topics. Goku had already admitted that he had been dead for seven years, and thus didn't know much. She got the distinct feeling that she and Yamcha really hadn't been close at all over the past few years, because he seemed almost as useless as Goku when it came to information. Eighteen still seemed fairly creepy to her, and no matter how many times her friends assured her that he really had changed, she still didn't trust Vegeta.

"Wow, look at those stars," Gohan softly said, gazing at the night sky.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "First of all, you can barely see the stars here and you know it. And secondly, some of my last memories are of the overwhelmingly painful level of boredom I managed to achieve on the trip to Namek when they were the _only_ thing I could see." She blinked in mild surprise at her statement. "Have I always been this disinterested in stuff, or is this a new personality trait I developed?"

"You were always like this," Gohan answered.

"Oh, hell yeah," Krillen laughed, patting her on the back.

"It took ridiculous things to impress you when you were younger," Chi-Chi added.

Even Yamcha joined in. "You've actually learned to appreciate things in the last few years," he pointed out. "Things you wouldn't have given the time of day to when you were younger actually catch your attention now…um, then…well, after time had passed, but before the accident, but it took you a while to get there, but really not that long, when you think about it, but you still kinda do, but you don't really, but…"

"Stop while you're behind," Krillen laughed, slapping his friend on the back.

The group laughed together for the first time all day, and Bulma felt a sense of warmth over her. It was that feeling of connection, that sense of love and friendship, that she had been so desperately missing over the past few weeks.

"I am so glad we did this," she said with a content sigh. She stood near the trees of her mother's largest garden, surrounded by her oldest friends. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Eighteen standing a fair distance from the group, holding her daughter. "Eighteen, want to join us?"

A very small smile crossed the blonde's features as she joined the crowd. She hardly enjoyed socializing with the 'old gang', but she would not turn down the invitation. Not that night.

As she continued to look over her shoulder, Bulma's gaze drifted to the Saiyan prince and his son. She had been very deliberately avoiding him all day, but if her friends insisted that he was on their side, and they stayed nearby (just in case), she would attempt to be civil. "You coming?" she called out to him.

Vegeta looked at her, his face betraying none of the thoughts that were racing through his mind. Fiercely, he repressed any ounce of hope that she actually remembered their relationship, and he forced himself to think that she was merely trying to be polite. The prince glanced down at the ground and looked at the boy sleeping at his feet. The lavender haired lad had tried to stay awake, but sleep had finally conquered the emotionally exhausted prnce.

Trunks had fallen asleep only a few minutes earlier, but Vegeta still decided to the boy get some rest. He had been through so much in the last few days, and the elder prince felt an extremely rare ounce of sympathy. Nodding, he knelt down and carefully gathered his son in his arms before walking over. It felt odd for him to be silently going along with her request, and it felt almost hypocritical of him to be 'playing nice', but he didn't dare risk his normal behaviors. Not when she was still so clearly afraid of him.

Bulma watched in awe as the Saiyan prince had gathered his son. She had been hearing off an on through the entire day that we was a decent father, but it was the first time she had witnessed it firsthand. "Wow," she whispered.

The other members of the group exchanged a knowing smile, all of them standing where they couldn't be seen by her.

The heiress' eyes remained locked on the prince as he approached. For the first time, she didn't see him as a monster, or a warrior, or a murderer. For the first time in her eyes, he was just a man. A man who kept to himself, a man who cared for his son, a man who didn't like to stand out.

Bulma wasn't sure why, but thinking of him like that gave her an odd sense of dread. It was almost as if his actions were horribly, horribly wrong. Why she would think of calm, quiet, responsible behavior in such a way was beyond her, but she felt a very real pit of worry forming in her stomach. She held no knowledge or evidence to the contrary, but something wasn't right.

It wasn't right at all.

"Um, excuse me," she quickly said, rushing toward the house. "I, uh, had a lot of soda…"

As they watched her disappear, everyone's smiles turned to frowns. "I think the party just ended," Krillen whispered to no one in particular.

Unfortunately, he was right.


	17. Chapter 17

Bulma sat in her room, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Letting out a tired huff, she turned on the bright lights that surrounded her mirror, squinting at their intensity. It had been two hours since she had left the party, and while she felt somewhat bad for her awkward exit, she had a thousand other things on her mind.

Rubbing her hand along her barely covered scalp, she began to bite down on her lower lip. While a lot of the fuzz on her head was coming in blue, there was a lot more gray than she would have cared to have seen. There were a lot more fine lines on her face than she remembered, and even her coloring seemed ever so slightly different. She was paler. Not much, not even enough to be noticed if no one was looking for it, but Bulma had always had an eye for details.

Looking down, she pinched the skin on the back of her hand, watching how quickly it snapped back. Not nearly as fast as it used to be, but considering her age, still pretty good.

Considering her age…she had been aware from the day she had been reintroduced to Gohan that she was forty years old, but until that moment she didn't feel that way. The party had been fairly fun, all things considered, but the more she thought about it, the more bothered she was by just how much life she was missing. Her friends were older, were married, and had kids. And all she had was…she had no idea what she had.

Feeling determined, Bulma slammed her hands down on the top of the vanity as she got to her feet. She whipped around and tore her door open, striding out with purpose. The heiress hopped down the stairs and headed straight to the kitchen, the most likely place for her mother to be.

Sure enough, the eternally perky blonde was scurrying around, tidying up after the party. "Oh, honey!" she perked up, seeing her daughter's arrival. "Are you feeling alright? Poor Goku was worried about you, he thought maybe you had made yourself sick or something!"

Bulma offered her mother a soft smile. "No, Mom, I'm fine," she assured. "Are the photo albums still where you used to keep them?"

Bunny straightened up and froze for a moment. "Oh, those?" she responded, trying to hide the tension in her voice. "What on earth do you want to see those boring old pictures for, dearie?"

"Because I'm missing twelve years of my life and I really want them back," Bulma casually answered. "I figure looking at the pictures, which I _know_ you would have taken thousands of over the years, would at least get me looking in the right direction to ask the right questions."

"Oh, of course," Bunny answered, running a dishcloth through her fingers. "Well, their where they've always been," she quickly answered. "Have fun, dearie!"

Bulma raised her barely existent eyebrows at her mother's reaction. As far as she knew, her mother had never passed up an opportunity to look at pictures. When the woman wasn't playing in her gardens or cooking in her kitchen, Bunny Briefs practically lived in her photo albums. "Okay…" Bulma slowly said, heading out.

The heiress headed out to the main family room and popped open the glass cabinet just to the left of the television. There were dozens of photo albums there, all of which were meticulously put together by her mother. Flipping open the most recent one, she flipped to the last filled page.

A confused look crossed her face as she began to go through the book. The book was only about a quarter of the way filled, and most of the photos were not telling her anything. There were a handful of pictures of her friends, and a fair number of her parents, but pictures with the heiress herself were few and far between. Frustrated, Bulma grabbed the next book in the collection. When she opened it, she immediately knew something was wrong with it.

There were huge gaps in the album, and Bulma knew that wasn't right. Her mother crammed more photos into an album than anyone else could ever dream of fitting in there, and the fact that the gaps existed was extremely unsettling. Again, pictures of her were scarce, and none of them could tell her anything.

Bulma didn't even bother putting that book away. Dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, she snatched the third album down. Again, there were gaps, and again, the photos didn't tell her anything that she needed to know. None of it was right.

"What the hell is going on here?" she whispered.

///

"My boy, you need to relax," Dr. Briefs sighed, lighting up his cigarette.

Vegeta continued to prowl around the lower labs, trying not to pull his own hair out. "Relaxing is hardly what I want right now," he growled, "and put that out. I can't stand the smell."

Looking at the glowing end of the cigarette, the good doctor relented and snubbed it out. While he was craving the calming effects the nicotine had on him, he would do everything in his power to try to calm his highly agitated son in law.

After Bulma had left the party, the group had disbanded and returned to their homes. Vegeta, though, seemed to struggle with leaving the compound. He ended up standing on the back lawn, staring up at his old bedroom, for almost thirty minutes before Dr. Briefs had found him. Only a few words were spoken between the two men, and around nine thirty, the prince left. Trunks, asleep before the party ended, was having an impromptu sleep over with Goten, leaving Vegeta free to return home undetected.

It had been around eleven at night when the Saiyan prince had returned to the compound. Making sure to avoid the main hallways, he had made his way to the labs. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but whatever it was, it would take place at Capsule Corp. One more day away from the place would take what little sanity he was holding on to.

"What do you want to do?" Dr. Briefs asked, trying to wave away the residual smoke.

Shaking his head and not slowing down his pace, Vegeta simply muttered. "I don't know."

The old scientist sighed heavily. "My boy, I didn't ask what you _should_ do. I asked you what _want_ to do. They are different, you know." Reaching for another cigarette, he barely stopped himself in time. "So, what do you want to do?"

Running his fingers through his hair, Vegeta finally stopped moving. "Stop her, talk to her, make her remember," he clearly stated.

"Then that's what you should do," the doctor simply responded. Upon seeing the confused look on his son in laws face, he offered a reassuring smile. "Go upstairs, son. Find my daughter and talk to her. Who knows? It may just help."

Vegeta was stunned at the very suggestion. For three weeks he had been completely forbidden from even being in her presence for fear of literally scaring her to death. Even after she had been healed the evening before, her pale complexion and lack of hair still made her appear frail, and her fearful reaction of him earlier had made him believe that it might still be possible to put too much strain on her. Even if the senzu bean had healed her completely, Vegeta had witnessed firsthand that it was _extremely_ possible to scare an otherwise healthy person to death.

Then again, she had seemed to calm down after a while, even if she had been avoiding him. She had always been a feisty one, and he supposed that he had seen her freak out one moment only to jump feet first into the fray.

Was is really worth the risk? If she became overwhelmingly frightened, which might have been possible without her army of friends around her, her adrenals might over produce and send her right back into cardiac arrest. But if she didn't, if she had actually had gotten accepting enough of his presence as a member of the group, there was hope that he could remind her of what they'd had.

Barely pausing long enough to give a slight nod, the prince was jogging up the staircase to the main house.

///

"What the hell are you hiding from me?" Bulma demanded, shaking one of the photo albums in her mother's face.

The blonde woman pulled the bright yellow dish gloves from her perfectly manicured hands. Looking around nervously, she shakily answered, "Why, whatever makes you think that we would be hiding something from you, honey?"

"Oh, cut the crap, Mom," Bulma snapped, tossing the book on the kitchen table. "These things are half empty, and it's obvious that pictures have been removed. You're trying to keep something from me, and I demand to know what it is!"

"Sweetie, you have only been healthy for a day," Bunny answered. "Why don't you wait a few days before you try to learn everything again? After all, twelve years of history is going to take an awful long time!"

Bulma slapped the table top hard. "Damn it, Mom, it's one thing to just know that I forgot stuff, but you're _hiding_ it from me!"

The blonde placed her dish gloves on the edge of the sink and sighed. "Can't you just let us enjoy a day or two before you start nosing around?" she pleaded. "You were so much happier earlier today when all you could think of was the party. Why can't you find some fun activities to keep you occupied for a few days, just so we can get used to everything again?"

But the heiress would not be swayed. "Because, dear mother, you wouldn't be pushing it this hard if there weren't something _huge_ that you wanted to have plenty of time to cover up. So why don't you just save us all the trouble and tell me whatever it is you don't want me to know? You know I'll find out in the end, so just tell me! It's not like I'm at risk for a heart attack now."

"Oh, honey, I don't know…you really don't seem too receptive to the idea of…"

"VEGETA?!?" Bulma screamed.

Beaming, Bunny pulled her daughter into a hug. "Oh, honey, you _do_ remember something!"

Shoving her mother off, Bulma took a large step back. "No, Mom, I mean Vegeta's _here_!" Taking a moment, she suddenly blinked in confusion. "Wait, why would you be so happy about me remembering Vegeta?" she demanded, glaring at her mother.

Realizing her mistake, Bunny began playing with her hair. "Oh, nothing, dear," she insisted. "You, um, just didn't seem to remember him too well earlier, and when you said his name, I just thought that, you know, you were remembering some of the stuff that had happened in the last few years."

A horrified look overcame Bulma's features. "What the hell are you keeping from me?" she hoarsely whispered.

"Apparently, your mother still believes that you are too weak to handle the truth," Vegeta sharply answered. If he was going to remind her of what they had, he had to be himself. "Which leads to one of two possible solutions: either you really are a weakling, or your mother is an idiot."

Furious, Bulma glared at the prince. "How dare you?" she screamed. "How dare you come into _my_ home and insult _my_ family?"

"Fine, I won't insult your mother," he responded with a casual shrug. "I'll stick with insulting _you_."

Angrily pushing her mother aside, Bulma strode up to the arrogant Saiyan. "What the hell are you even doing here?" she hissed. "And where the hell is your son?"

"With Kakarot's youngest spawn," he answered with a smirk. "And since you refused to speak with me earlier, perhaps now that the morons are gone, you might actually pay some attention to me."

The heiress shoved him, and was somewhat surprised when she couldn't move him an inch and nearly knocked herself down. "Damn it, Vegeta, stop insulting my friends!" she shouted. "If you hate them so much, what the hell are you even doing here?"

"At Capsule Corp? Well, that's where…"

"On Earth!" she interrupted. "If you hate everything here, why the hell are you on my planet?"

Again, he offered a casual shrug. "I don't recall saying that I hated _everything_ on the planet," he answered with a smirk. He looked her up and down before adding. "Some things are certainly entertaining."

Trying somewhat to keep her temper in check and failing miserably, Bulma tried to shove him again, getting the same results. "Well what the hell makes you think that I would want to entertain you, you bastard?" she hollered, stomping her foot into the ground.

"Look, it's not _my_ fault that you drove your car off a cliff and forgot how much you _love_ to fight with me," he fought back.

"I do not!" she yelled.

"Puh! You used to externally lock the door to my training room and hack in to the sound system just to bitch at me," he countered aggressively. "You would go out of your way just to pick a good fight!"

Stamping her foot again, she shrieked, "NO I WOULDN'T!"

Circling around her like a predator, he growled, "Oh, yes you would, woman. And you have, a thousand times, because I'm the only one who ever made it _fun_ for you."

Snorting, Bulma tried to wave him off. "Whatever, Vegeta. I'm going to bed." She began to head for the stairs, but found, much to her annoyance, that she had a Saiyan shadow. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Annoying the living hell out of you," he answered with a smirk. "You're not the _only_ one who's been missing things these past few weeks."

"Ugh, you make it sound like we actually were _close_ to each other," she sneered, nearing the first step.

Suddenly, he was three steps above her. "We were," he casually answered, blocking her path completely. "And as I am certain that you will remember it all at some point, I see no reason to continue this pointless charade of innocence any further."

Remembering that shoving got her nowhere, Bulma opted for kicking him instead. He blocked her, only causing her to get even angrier. "Damn it, Vegeta!" she hollered. "Why don't you go back to _your_ place and be with…your…"

In that single moment, all of the color drained from Bulma's face, and her eyes grew enormous. "Named after underwear," she whispered, a cold sweat starting to break out all over her body. "Half human," she went on, feeling a knot in her stomach. "Purple hair and blue…eyes…MOM! DAD! GET IN HERE, NOW!" she bellowed.

Two seconds later her parents, who had been eavesdropping from just around the corner, were in the room. "Oh, honey, there you are," her mother said, pretending to be oblivious to the unbelievable level of tension in the room. "I was wondering if you would like me to whip up a quick batch of those chocolate chip cookies you like ever so much!"

Glaring at her parents, Bulma asked point blank, "Do I have a _son_?"

Exchanging a glance with his wife, poor Dr. Briefs shook his head. "Well, that's a little more direct than I was anticipating," he eventually answered.

"Do I?" she asked again, her voice practically hissing.

"Well, honey," her mother began, "there's been so much happening in the last few years, and you've done so many wondrous things…"

The heiress whipped around and glared Vegeta, who was then only one step up from her, square in the eye. "Am I, or am I not, the mother of your son?"

Glaring back just as hard, Vegeta coolly answered, "Yes. You are."

Without waiting another second, Bulma slapped him in the face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she hissed at him.

"When could I?" Vegeta challenged. "You nearly had a stroke when you saw that I was even on the planet, and as soon as _that _conniption was over, you avoided me at all costs. And by the way, it really would have done the boy a _world_ of good to watch you freak out like this over the _idea_ of being his mother!"

"Oh, don't you try to turn this all around on me, mister!" she fought back. "If you woke up one day and were told that _you_ had a kid with someone you couldn't stand, how would _you_ react?"

"Probably by blowing several things up," he shot back. "And I am not blaming you for anything, you daft woman! I am merely explaining why we didn't tell you earlier!"

"Because it just didn't seem like something I'd need to know?" she screamed. "I cannot believe that _none_ of you told me that Trunks was _mine_! Oh, Kami, and I barely spent any time with him at the party…and I know I haven't seen him in weeks since the first I remember _hearing_ about him was _today_…" Fixing a hard look in Vegeta's direction, she firmly placed her hands on her hips. "I demand that you return my son to me!"

"Not bloody likely," he growled back. "You may be his mother by birth, but until you can demonstrate that you actually _know_ him, he stays with me."

"I know enough!" she countered. "His name is Trunks, he's nine years old, his best friend is Goten, and he has an ass for a father!"

Vegeta pushed her slightly, just enough to get her to scoot on the stair, and got eye level with her. "When's his birthday?" he challenged. "What grade is he in? What were his first words? What's his favorite color? What does he do for fun? How much does he eat? What's his regular body temperature? Do you know any of these things, woman?"

Huffing, she retorted with, "Do you?"

"February fourteenth, fifth, a variation of 'bitch', bright blue, crazy adventures with Goten, three times his current weight, and a hundred and one," he coolly answered. "And there is no way in hell that I am going to let someone who knows nothing about him take care of _my son_."

Giving him one more glare, Bulma turned to her parents for support. "Does Trunks usually live with me?" she demanded of them.

Dr. Briefs adjusted his glasses. "Well, technically, yes…"

"Then he stays with me!"

"But that's not fair!" Bunny intervened, clearly on the verge of tears. "He lived with Vegeta, too!"

"But he lived with me more, right?" she asked, suddenly losing her ground in the impromptu custody battle.

Bunny dabbed her eyes. "Well, all three of you lived here, so it really was the same amount of time…"

"HE LIVED WITH ME?!?"

Beside her, Vegeta snorted. "Hey, that was your idea, not mine. Though after a while, it wasn't all that bad. And for your information, woman, the boy and I only moved out three weeks ago when you lost your memory. For almost ten years before that, we both were _here_."

Bulma placed her hands on the side of her face. "I am not hearing this," she said out loud. "There is no way I lived with Vegeta for ten years, slept with him, had his kid, and actually put up with it." She glared hard at the Saiyan on the stair. "Tomorrow, I want my son _here,_ in _my_ house, by ten in the morning."

"Fine," he agreed, "but I'm staying."

"Oh, no, you're not!"

"Oh, yes, I am!" he shot back. "You can spend as much time with the boy as _he_ wants, but if you want to see _him_, you have to deal with _me_."

"I refuse to let you…"

"Then he's not coming," the prince interrupted. "I refuse to deprive him of the one parent who actually recognizes him. The boy has been through enough lately, and he does not need your ridiculous requests to be adding yet another undue level of stress on him. He's already lost one parent this month, do not ask him to sacrifice the other for your own sense of self worth."

Seething, Bulma could see that she was not going to win that argument. "Fine," she sneered. "Be here tomorrow at ten."

"Fine," he growled back. He turned and stormed out of the house, and she turned and stormed up to her bedroom.

Only a few feet from where they had been, Bunny once again dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, dear, do you think they can work things out?" she asked her husband.

Dr. Briefs simply pulled out his long awaited cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. "If I recall correctly, this is how they acted right before the first time they…er…"

A wave of relief washed over the blonde, and she hugged her husband tight. "Oh, you're right, honey! At this rate, they'll be back together and we'll have even more grandchildren before we know it!"

If only she knew how wrong she was.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for the unbelievable amount of time it has been between postings. Life just got…crazy, if not slightly out of hand, to the point where I forgot that I even had stories to update. Things have seemingly smoothed out, but I make no promises. I am, however, very sincerely sorry.

/\/\/\

Trunks sat in front of the small house he was staying in, playing with the grass with his toes. The sun had been up for barely an hour, and he had been awake that entire time.

He had gotten up at half past five, in Goten's bed, and felt like he had to get out of there before anyone else got up. He loved hanging out with Goten, and his family had always been nice to him, but if they gave him that sad, "Poor Little Boy" look again, he wasn't sure that he could keep from killing someone.

So he had snuck out just before dawn, heading for what he was hoping was only a temporary bedroom for him. He knew that there would be hell to pay when everyone else woke up and discovered that he wasn't where he was supposed to be, but he didn't care. He needed air, he needed space, he needed to think of anything but the hell he had been going through for the past month. He figured he would just sneak in, then just explain to his dad later. He expected to get in a bit of trouble, but he was ready for it.

What he hadn't been ready for, though, was watching his father get home at the same time.

The two simply looked at each other for a minute before Trunks broke the silence. "So are you going to explain why you were out all night first, or do I have to explain why I'm not where I'm supposed to be first?"

When Vegeta glared hard at the boy, Trunks just rolled his eyes. "I needed space," the boy simply stated.

"I was at Capsule Corp," Vegeta shot back.

Trunks raised his eyebrow. "Call it even?" he asked, not bothering to hide his hope.

The elder prince contemplated for a moment before agreeing. While he certainly didn't approve of his son sneaking out, he honestly didn't have the energy to punish him at the moment. "Proceed unpunished," he responded.

The boy smiled up at his father and began heading for the house, but found himelf blocked by his father's arm. Hesitantly, he looked up. "You changed your mind and I'm a dead man, aren't I?"

Vegeta shook his head. "Not yet, but if you really want me to..."

"No, I'm good!" Curiously, he tried to figure out his father. "Dad, what's up?"

The elder prince held no emotion on his face as he spoke to his son. "I spoke to your mother last night," he bluntly said. "She is aware of her relation to you and would like to see you later this morning."

Trunks blinked in surprise. "She...wait...what?"

"She is aware of her relation to you and wishes to see you later this morning," he repeated. "Do you wish to be there?"

The nine year old was more than slightly shocked. "Um, yeah, I guess. I mean, of course!" A giant grin broke over his face. "Mom knows that she's Mom? This is _awesome_! We can go back home, Dad! We're going back home! I'm going to go..you didn't say that we were going home, did you?" he sadly realized. "You were talking about a visit, and Mom still doesn't know who I am, huh?"

"Do you wish to go or not?" Vegeta asked again.

Trunks shifted his gaze to the ground, watching the early morning sunlight reflect off the morning dew. He really didn't think he could stand another day of talking to a mother that didn't remember him. It was too hard. Far too hard. Didn't he deserve one day off from the hell that his life had become? Hadn't he earned just one day of not having to deal with his seemingly shattered family issues? Couldn't he spend a single afternoon just carefree and being like any other kid?

But his mother wanted to see him, so that meant that she wanted to get the family back together...didn't it? So if he agreed to go over, maybe he could help jog her memory. After all, the biggest secret was out in the open, so he could tell her anything, couldn't he? And if he was going to go over, his dad would have to go with, and if his mom and dad spent a lot of time with each other, then even if his mother couldn't remember, his parents could still get back together, couldn't they? After all, they had fallen for each other once...why couldn't they do it again? Then this entire nightmare could end...

Slowly, Trunks began to nod. He knew it was going to be hard, almost unbearably so, but if would get his family back together..."I'll do it," he whispered. "I'll go."

Vegeta only offered a small nod in return. "Be prepared to leave by 9:45," he answered, turning to the house. He hesitated before glancing back at the boy. "Aren't you coming in?"

Trunks shook his head. "Actually, I think I'll just stay out here, Dad...alone."

And that's where he stayed, playing with the grass with his toes, waiting and hoping.

***

"I cannot believe that you didn't tell me I had a son," Bulma hissed to her parents. It was almost ten in the morning, and if anything, her mood was even worse. She had been up almost all night, trying to figure out just how the hell she had ended up in the situation she was in. What could possibly have led her down that path? What could have possessed her, ten years ago, to even _attempt_ something with Vegeta, let alone settle down with him? Why, _why_ did it have to be _Vegeta_ of all people? Waking up to find out that she had hooked up with _Krillen_ would have been easier for her to digest than _Vegeta_. And that was saying something for her!

For the first time since she had come home from the hospital, her memory loss was causing more frustration and anger than worry and curiosity. No one was telling her what she needed to know, and as she thought about the conversations she'd had with her friends, it was very likely that they honestly _couldn't_. It seemed that the only people who had ever known what really had happened were herself and the Saiyan, and even that list had been cut in half.

So there she sat, exhausted, frustrated, angry, and very confused. The idea of waiting for a _visit_ from her _son_ still seemed to be a bit much for her to process. She had secretly hoped, when she had found out that twelve years had passed, that she'd had the sense of mind to have a family. While she couldn't remember actually vocalizing her desire, she had definitely been jealous when Goku had popped up that day and announced that he had a son. She had yearned for a child of her own, and during the night, it had dawned on her just how lucky she was that she already had one. At forty years old, the chances of her successfully having a healthy child were drastically diminished.

But having to see her son, a child she honestly didn't know, like a parent who had lost a custody battle…that was not part of her dream. And with no ring on her finger to tell her otherwise, she was fairly certain that her child was not born in wedlock. Which was just as well, since she still hated the idea of being anywhere near the Prince of Saiyans, let alone being stuck with him for life.

"Oh, honey," Bunny softly said, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "you know that we were only looking out for you."

Bulma glared at her mother. "By _lying_ to me?" she accused.

The blonde shook her head and waved a finger. "Now, now, dearie, it's not like we told you that you _didn't _have a child, is it?"

The heiress growled and stomped across the kitchen, snatching angrily at the coffee pot. "No," she fumed, pouring herself a scalding cup of much needed caffeine, "you just removed photos from my photo album, and I'm guessing redecorated the house, and probably my room, to make sure I couldn't find out!"

Blinking in surprise, Bunny tapped her lip with her index finger. "Now how did you figure out that we changed your room?"

"Because everything is exactly as I remember it, and I like to change things up every few months," Bulma responded, violently shoving the coffee pot back in its place.

"I told you she would figure it out," Dr. Briefs calmly said, sipping at his drink and not looking up at all from the newspaper.

The younger woman's anger suddenly turned on her father. "How can you be so calm about this?" she demanded.

The good doctor didn't even offer his daughter a shrug. Instead, he just calmly turned to the next page. "Because, sweetheart, there isn't anything for us to be worked up about. We've known the boy all his life, and until your terrible accident, we saw him almost every day."

"But this is a big deal for me!" Bulma cried out, slamming her cup on the table and spilling a few drops in the process. "How are you not worried about how this is going to go? How are you not even a little bit concerned about how terrifying this is for me, and probably for Trunks, too? I mean, if Mom suddenly forgot who _I_ was, and I was going to go talk to her, I'd be scared out of my mind!"

"Well," the elderly man said, folding his paper in half, "I suppose you do have a point there. After all, the poor boy has been through so much lately, and you haven't exactly been yourself around him…I suppose that he would be nervous."

Bulma blinked at her father's words before turning red with anger. "I'M NERVOUS TOO!" she screamed, fisting her hands at her sides.

"Oh, Bulma, you're a grown woman," her mother responded, dismissively waiving her off as she opened up the pantry. "We don't doubt for a minute that you'll be able to handle it. But just think about what that poor boy has gone through in the last month. Finding out his mother has been in an accident, worrying that she was going to die, finding out she doesn't remember him, having to move out in order to protect her…it's an awful lot of stress for a nine year old to be under."

For the first time, Bulma really contemplated what it must have been like on the other side of the accident. She had been so wrapped up in her own issues, just as anyone else would have in that position, that she hadn't really thought about what her son was going through. Granted, she had only known that she _had_ a son for about ten hours, but she still hadn't tried to put things in his perspective.

"I guess this has been hard on everyone," she muttered, finally sitting down at the table.

"Especially on those two," Bunny softly said, mixing up batter at the counter. "They've been so, so worried about you…"

Bulma looked curiously at her mother. "They?" she asked. "Who is 'they'?"

"Trunks and Vegeta," Bunny answered, slightly confused. The bubbly blonde thought it was a bit odd that her daughter always seemed to forget Vegeta unless she was angry, but she supposed that it was just due to the stress of the situation. "They've never stopped thinking about you."

Bulma looked down into her coffee cup, finally noticing that she had spilled some of it during her earlier tirade. Instead of cleaning it up, she began to trace the liberated drops around the table with her finger. "I had an actual relationship with him, didn't I?" she softly asked.

"And a good one at that," her mother quickly responded. "I've never seen anyone make you as happy as he did."

The dark liquid blended in with the dark finish on the table as Bulma continued to trail her fingers through it. "I don't understand it," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "He's a monster. He's a killer. How…just…how?"

"Sugar, not even the gods know that one," the blonde stated in a matter of fact fashion. "I mean, your father and I suspected you two were up to something for a while, but you kept insisting that there was nothing there. The next thing we know, he's off in space, you're telling us your three months pregnant, and…"

"Hold up," Bulma interrupted, a horrified look on her face. "Vegeta _left_ when I was _pregnant_?!?"

Both of her parents froze. Neither of them had really expected to have to talk about _that_ part of the relationship with their daughter yet.

It was no secret to anyone that Bulma and Vegeta had a very, very rocky start. Their initial relationship, so far as anyone else could tell, had been nothing but meaningless sex that ended with an unplanned pregnancy. Their no strings attached relationship suddenly had one very, very big string in it, and neither of them had handled it particularly well. Their fighting went from somewhat playful to downright vicious. One night, during a particularly bitter fight, she had screamed at him to get out of her life. What she hadn't been ready for was his literal take on her words. She had told him to leave, and he had done just that.

At least, that was the version that her parents had eventually gotten.

"It's not exactly like it sounds, princess," Dr. Briefs slowly began, trying to approach his daughter as logically as possible. "There were a lot of complicated factors, such as…"

The poor man didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as the back door opened and Trunks walked in, followed by his father. Bulma was on her feet in an instant. She strode with determination to the Saiyan, and with every ounce of strength she could muster she slapped him across the cheek.

Vegeta had not been prepared at all for the attack, and while his cheek didn't necessarily hurt, his head still had snapped to the side.

The sound resonated for several seconds in the otherwise silent home, and everyone stood watching, horrified as they waited for whatever would come next. They had all seen the two of them fight before. Hell, they'd even take bets on who would win. But never, in the ten years that the two had been together, had they seen such hatred.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed, fisting her hands at her side. "You worthless son of a bitch!"

Trunks immediately felt the sting of tears in his eyes. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all...they were supposed to be getting along and being a family again...

Vegeta's head remained facing sideways as his mind desperately tried to process what the hell had just happened. He had, by no means, expected to be treated nicely by her. He had, though, expected some level of civility, if nothing else for the sake of their son. While they hadn't exactly left on good terms the night before, he still found no logical explanation for her attack.

"This was the agreed upon time," he eventually said, slowly turning to face her. He felt slightly ridiculous saying that, since he knew that wasn't the reason for her wrath, but he couldn't come up with anything else at the moment.

"I don't give a fuck what time it is, you bastard!" she yelled at him. "I cannot believe that I was actually starting to think it was _possible_ that I _might_ have had a _relationship_ with _YOU!!!_"

Trunks bit down on his lower lip, trying his hardest not to cry. He was standing directly between his parents, and he could have sworn that he could physically feel the tension pressing down on his young shoulders. The reunion he had been so desperately hoping for was slipping further and further away from them. "Please…" he whispered.

Vegeta opted for a slightly different approach. "If you insist on doing this in front of your family," he growled, slightly moving Trunks to the side, "then at least have the common courtesy of letting me know _what_, in theory, I did wrong!"

"Don't do this," Trunks softly pleaded, looking from parent to parent.

Bulma huffed and shoved her hands onto her hips. "You've got some nerve, you asshole, thinking you have any right to be with me, let alone _my_ son," she growled.

Trunks' lip began to quiver. His heart began to race and he felt his entire world crushing down on his shoulders.

"For a genius, you really are an idiot," Vegeta fought back, tired of being blamed for whatever the hell it was he was being blamed for. "He is just as much my son as he is yours!"

The boy began to slightly tremble.

"I want you to get out of my house," the heiress demanded, waiving her arm dramatically. When Vegeta didn't move, she began to stomp her foot, screaming, "Get out, get out, GET OUT!"

Trunks slammed his eyes closed and tightly covered his ears. He couldn't stand to hear any more of it...he couldn't stand to see them hating each other...it was too much...too much...

Vegeta glanced down at their son, and to him, the fight was instantly forgotten. "Woman, now is not the time…"

"The hell it isn't!" she shouted back. "You left me, you asshole! You _abandoned_ me while I was…" It was at that moment that Bulma finally looked down at Trunks. She lost all the color in her face, and her heart leapt to her throat. She had been so caught up in the fury of having been abandoned while pregnant that she had somehow blocked him out, and the guilt of that immediately began to consume her.

Vegeta had dropped to his knee to get eye level with their son, a slightly worried look on his face. "Look at me, boy," he softly said, placing his fingers underneath Trunks' chin. When the boy didn't respond, Vegeta tried to guide his head in the right direction. "Trunks, I need you to look at me right now," he gently commanded.

But Trunks couldn't hear him at all. His eyes were screwed shut, his ears were blocked off, and all of the screaming and yelling and hatred that had just happened pushed him beyond his limit.

Bulma's eyes widened as the ground began to shake beneath her feet and a strange golden light began to surround her son. Blue waves of what looked like electricity seemed to be striking around him, and even she could remember what powering up looked like. Her worry picked up as she realized that it was her fighting that had pushed him to that limit.

Her panic level skyrocketed when she noticed that her parents and even Vegeta seemed genuinely worried about what was happening. Vegeta didn't get worried. Vegeta _never_ got worried. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Shit," Vegeta muttered, getting to his feet. Not even sparing a glance at the others, he called out, "Lock us in!" as he grabbed the boy and bolted from the room.

The next few minutes almost blurred before Bulma's eyes. Her parents literally dropped everything, spilling coffee and pancake batter all over the floor, as they scurried up the stairs. In the distance, Bulma could hear the anguished wail of her son, quickly followed by what sounded like an extremely heavy door being slammed shut. Racing after her parents, she found herself in the security room, staring at countless monitors that kept a constant eye on their property. Her father's old fingers flew deftly over several buttons, and the red words "Exterior Lock Engaged" suddenly lit up the board.

Every screen in the room suddenly functioned as one large one, and Bulma was struck by the image before her. No sound could be heard, but the image came through loud and clear.

Vegeta and Trunks were in a room that Bulma though looked an awful lot like the inside of the spaceship they had been building for Goku before Namek. Trunks was on his knees, eyes still closed, ears still covered, but now screaming wildly. Vegeta was also on his knees, gripping his son by the face and saying something over and over again to the worked up boy. Only a few seconds later, Goku and Gohan seemed to appear out of nowhere, both looking extremely worried. Vegeta seemed to give them a command, and the other two nodded. Goku disappeared again, and Gohan began to say something. Vegeta never let go of Trunks, but began trying to lock eyes with the boy.

The nine year old thrashed violently, his eyes snapping open and his arms tensing off to his sides. Bulma watched in horror as she realized that even though his eyes were open, it didn't seem like he could see or hear anything. Vegeta's grip visibly tightened, and Gohan dropped to his knees, grabbing Trunks by the shoulders and saying something into his ears.

Not a moment later, the entire compound rocked violently. The three humans in the control room held their breath and watched in silence as the mute screen showed them this child's raw, uncontrolled power.

There, before their astonished eyes, the nine year old ascended.

Trunks had surged into Super Saiyan 2.

Inside the chamber, Vegeta fought to get his son to see him. Both he and Gohan were trying to siphon off as much energy as they could, trying desperately to keep him from going too far. They could only do so much, though, and the boy didn't seem to be slowing down his ascent at all.

"Look me in the eye, boy," Vegeta firmly commanded. He knew that if he could establish real eye contact with his son, he could bring him back down, or at least get him to control his power. He would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid at that moment. Vegeta had seen more than one warrior push themselves to total destruction by letting their power get the best of them.

He'd done it himself.

"Focus, Trunks," Gohan whispered, trying to calm the completely overwhelmed child. "Can you focus for me, kiddo?"

As Trunks continued to scream, Vegeta's patience ran out. "Damn it, where the hell is Kakarot?" he shouted at Gohan.

"Here," Goku panted, having just reappeared. Swiftly, he handed a capsule to Gohan. The teenager wasted no time in getting the syringe out of it and plunging it into the child's thigh.

The boy screamed for a few seconds longer before his eyelids fluttered. Almost as abruptly as the ascension had started, it ended. Trunks' eyes rolled up in his head, and he passed out on the gravity room floor.

As soon as he was sure that his son was subdued but otherwise fine, Vegeta got to his feet and punched Goku in the chest. "What the hell took you so long?" he shouted.

"I…I'm sorry, Vegeta," Goku sincerely apologized, rubbing his very sore chest. "I got the senzu bean just fine, but when Krillen tried to hand me a needle…I just…I froze…"

"If you had frozen for ten seconds longer, my son would have died!" the prince shouted back.

Gohan took a large step back, pulling the unconscious Trunks with him. His father really did have a crippling fear of needles, but he had to agree with Vegeta that only a few seconds longer would have been too long. Perhaps he should have gone with his father instead of staying behind. But if he's done that, then Trunks could have passed his physical limit earlier and just as easily destroyed himself. Either way, Gohan didn't want the two purebloods to start fighting over it.

"What happened?" he calmly asked, trying to ignore how hard he was breathing. "Dad, Goten and I were out behind our house when we felt the power spike."

Slowing his own heavy breathing, Vegeta remembered what had triggered the anxiety attack that had pushed his son beyond safety. Slowly, he turned his head and glared at the video camera. While he knew he was partially guilty and certainly hadn't helped the situation, Vegeta knew that he was not the one who started off swinging for the fences. For three weeks he had wanted nothing more than to have Bulma be safe and happy.

At that moment, those wishes died.

Dr. Briefs recognized the look his son in law was giving, and he disengaged the exterior lock. With a fury that most of the Earthlings had never seen, Vegeta stalked to Bulma's energy. Throwing the door open, he closed the gap between them faster than she could see. Bunny and Dr. Briefs took their cue and got out of the room as quickly as they could, closing the door on the way out. They knew their daughter was not in any physical harm, but they also knew better than to be anywhere near them.

Bulma suddenly felt afraid for her life. Even her memories of Vegeta never showed anywhere near the amount of anger he was displaying at that moment. The heiress hadn't meant to upset Trunks, she really hadn't. In fact, she had barely noticed he was there until he…

Bulma paused mid thought. She hadn't noticed that he was there. Her own son, who she fought for ownership of, had been in the room, and she hadn't seen him. She had been so wrapped up in her anger at the moment that she had brushed the boy aside, forgetting him as anything more than another thing to possess. The guilt ate at her, and she wanted to badly to apologize.

But Vegeta was not going to let her. "Listen, bitch," he started, "I find it ludicrous enough that you're getting mad at me for something I did ten years ago, let alone that you would attack me with no warning over such a thing. But so help me, if you ever do something like that in front of _my_ son again, I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your life. The boy and I have done _everything_ that was asked of us, all for your sake, and you _knew_ that. We _told_ you that last night. And you dare to act as though this has all been about you? Well guess what, princess," he sneered, pushing her against the wall. "I'm done. I'm done worrying about you, I'm done putting up with your bigotry, I'm done worrying about what you think of me…I'm done."

As he stormed out, Bulma couldn't name the emotion that filled her. She hadn't considered herself in a relationship with Vegeta. In fact, she would have done anything to _prove_ that she wasn't attached to him. But the way he seemed to wash his hands of her…all for one fight…was it betrayal she felt? Guilt? Loneliness?

Silently, she slumped against the wall and slid down. This was all wrong. This wasn't what her life was supposed to be like. Her body began to rack with her sobs as behind her, on the large screen, Vegeta gathered up his son's limp body and left.


	19. Chapter 19

Gohan and Goku had followed Vegeta back to his temporary home, neither of them thinking that the prince should be left alone. While they didn't dare say it out loud, they were both more than a little afraid of another genocidal breakdown. Even though they had decided to keep that incident hidden from the rest of the group, they certainly did not approve of it and had no intention of allowing it to happen again.

Assuming, of course, that they could stop him if he did…

As they landed at the house, Vegeta kicked the front door open. Without turning around to look at Goku and Gohan, he simply commanded, "Go away."

"Vegeta," Goku, quietly started, "we really want to make sure that you're okay. We just want to help…"

Angrily exhaling through his nose, Vegeta turned his head a quarter turn toward the younger Saiyan. "I do not need your help," he bit out. "Go away!"

But Goku didn't leave. Taking a step forward, he took a step toward the prince, he reached out for him. "We're here to…"

Vegeta didn't bother letting the younger Saiyan finish his sentence, opting instead to just ignore him and stalk inside his house. He had long ago learned that reasoning with Kakarot was useless, and he had to put his son down before beating the sense into him.

Silently, he ascended the staircase and entered his son's room, closely followed by the two Son's. He placed his son gently down on his bed, slowly stood up, and let out what seemed like a very calming breath. Without any further warning, he whipped around and clocked Goku in the face, sending the taller man through the open window.

Gohan barely blinked as his father yelped and flew past him. He had figured that something like that was likely to happen, and wasn't actually surprised. Vegeta clearly wanted to be left alone, Goku was clearly not going to let him be alone, Goku clearly annoyed Vegeta, and Vegeta was clearly on the verge of snapping. It hardly required a genius to figure it out.

"Anger management therapy?" he asked, peeking through the window to affirm that his father was okay. The prince shot the teenager a sharp glare, and Gohan immediately held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I seem to be channeling Krillen right now," the teen quickly answered.

"Either leave through the front door or you're leaving in the same fashion your father did," Vegeta threatened.

"I will, if you really want me to," he quietly responded, "but I want to at least offer you this: I could stay up here with Trunks, just to keep an eye on him and make sure he's okay, and you can go pound the hell out of my dad until you feel better."

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow at the teenager. "Are you offering to baby-sit my freshly ascended, completely unstable son as I beat the shit out of your father?"

Gohan simply shrugged back. "Dad wants to help, and there's really only one thing he can do to help right now. You need to vent in some way that does _not_ end in anyone or anything getting killed, and tearing into my dad seems like a good way to do that. And I…" He paused for a moment, glancing down at the unconscious child on the bed. "I remember what it was like to make that jump that way."

The prince glanced down at his son before gazing out the window. "Do you swear that you will not leave his side, no matter what?"

The demi-Saiyan nodded solemnly. "I promise, Vegeta."

Nodding at the boy, he raised his arm to the side and fired a blast out the window, immediately followed by Goku's yelp. "I'll hold you to that," he said, jumping out the window and heading for his opponent.

Gohan smiled as he watched the fight begin. "You're welcome," he quietly spoke.

//////

Back at Capsule Corp, Bulma was sitting on a sofa, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she stared at the wall. "I don't get it," she whispered. "How did any of this happen? How did I just lose it back there? How did I completely forget my own son?" She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, trembling slightly. "How?"

Quietly, Bunny sat down next to her daughter and handed her a mug of hot cocoa. "Here you go, sweetie," she softly answered. "I even added extra marshmallows, just the way you like it."

Bulma accepted the mug, but she didn't drink from it. "I've lost my entire life, haven't I?" she quietly asked, slowly glancing at her mother.

"Oh, honey," Bunny gently answered, wrapping her arms around her daughter, "I know it seems rough right now, but you haven't lost your life."

"Yes, I have," the younger daughter bit out, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "I had this…_life_ before this happened. I had a _family_ life. I had a kid, and I set up play dates for him, and I grounded him, and I held him, and I…I gave birth, Mom, and I don't even remember it." Her hands began to tremble as she set her mug down. "Birth, Mom. The most amazing thing I've ever done in my life and…and there's nothing there."

Again, Bunny offered a hug. "It's there, sweetheart," she assured. "You just can't get to it right now."

Bulma shook her head, crying softly. "Is it?" she asked. "I'm trying to remember, Mom. I'm really, really trying to remember it, and it's just…it's not even like I'm missing something, like there's a hole I need to fill in. It just feels like it never happened."

"But it did," the blonde reassured. "It's like that movie that you loved that got scratched that skips that dramatic part in the middle. You got yourself a little bump on the noggin, and now your brain has skipped a few chapters. But just like the movie, it's still inside of you. You just need to buff out the disk and you'll be right as rain!"

The blue haired heiress sniffled as she blinked at her mother. "How…how is it you can compare my life to a scratched disk and actually make me feel better?"

Bunny giggled, giving her daughter another squeeze. "Some people are scientists, some people can fly, and some people save the world. I happen to bake cookies and make people feel good." She shrugged lightly and smiled. "It's what I do!"

Letting out a laugh that still held a few tears, Bulma hugged her mother back.

///

"No, Mom, it's okay," Gohan said, adjusting his phone in his hand. "Trunks is still asleep." He paused for a moment, listening patiently. "No, no, Dad's with Vegeta right now." Another pause, quickly followed by a chuckle. "Yes, he's going to be that dirty and hungry when he gets home. I'll remind him to stay outside until you can hose him off…yeah, I'll let you know when the fight ends. Love you too."

He clicked his phone shut and sighed, taking a seat next to Trunks. It had been only about ten minutes, and the teenager had a feeling that the boy would be out for a few hours. Eight years earlier, when he had made his own ascension, he had stayed on his feet just long enough to go home and tell his mother that his father wasn't coming back. Sixty seconds later, he had passed out and remained out for three days straight.

Gohan brushed the hair away from Trunks' eyes. Trunks hadn't held the transformation nearly so long as the elder boy had, but it had also been a completely erratic transformation. Gohan's, while emotionally triggered, plateaued and maintained. Trunks, on the other hand, continued to surge. Without a direct enemy to focus on, his power had remained completely unchecked. His small body barely managed to handle it.

"Boy, do I not envy you," he quietly said, looking at the boy's sleeping face. "I mean, when I went through this, I completely lost it. Everything in my life just seemed to fall apart after that. It seemed to slam me into puberty over night and I was…I was…angry, all the time. I did awful things back then, Trunks."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, shifting his gaze to the ceiling as he remembered a part of his life he would have preferred to have forgotten. "I was terrible," he went on. "I snuck out of the house in the middle of the night, I screamed at my mother, I got into fights with the only people I could…if your dad and Piccolo hadn't been there to literally spend a year beating the sense into me, I really don't know what I would have done."

Gohan rotated his chair, looking at a random spot on the wall. "I guess your transformation could go a lot better than mine did," he theorized. "I mean, I've already lived through it and I know what you're going through, so I can help you talk about it. And your dad has already helped me get through mine, so that's a plus. Also, we've got my dad and Eighteen and Krillen, and they'll all help you out, too."

Again, he rotated the chair, looking at the nine year old over his shoulder. "But I've never had to go through what you have, Trunks. My parents were never…separated? Is that what I should be calling it? I mean, they didn't get in a fight and decide that it wasn't going to work out, but they are fighting, and you did move out, and I don't know how it's going to end…why is this what I'm dwelling on?"

He turned the chair all the way around, finally facing Trunks completely. "I guess the point I'm trying to make is that we're here for you, kiddo. And I really hope that you remember that…"

"…because you're about to go through hell…"

////

Goku quickly brought his arms in front of his face, barely able to block the attack flying for his face. For almost two hours he had been trying to hold his own against Vegeta, and it had not been like he thought it was going to be. When he had been launched through the window, he had figured that meant that the prince wanted a good fight. The younger Saiyan had been more than happy to oblige, but he was finding that it was significantly harder than originally planned.

Ever since Namek, Goku had the comforting thought of knowing that he was stronger. He was never dumb enough to say it out loud, but he was more than aware of the gap that existed between himself and the prince of his race. And armed with that knowledge, Goku thought a fight would be the best way to let Vegeta get his frustrations out.

However, the gap in strength seemed almost meaningless at the moment. Goku had fought Vegeta, in life and death combat, multiple times, but never had it been like this. While Vegeta was known for being reckless when he was worked up, he had never so completely disregarded his own safety in a fight. Goku had thought that trying to talk to him about it at first would help, but in retrospect, even he realized that it was probably not the smartest thing to do.

Two hours into the fight, Goku was getting more than a little worried by the amount of damage that the elder Saiyan was taking. He was having to inflict more and more serious injuries on the smaller man, trying to get him to stop but only egging him on. Each time Goku hit him down, Vegeta got back up faster and more violently than before. While Goku made sure to protect his vital organs and to make sure he didn't take any major injuries, Vegeta seemed to have abandoned the very idea of defense.

Quietly, Goku prayed that Vegeta would either calm down or pass out soon. If he didn't, then there was no telling how badly the fight could end.

////

"Sweetie pie?" Bunny softly said, patting her daughter on the head. "Someone's at the door, so I'll be gone for a minute, okay?"

Softly chuckling and dabbing away at the last of her tears, Bulma nodded. "I'm okay, Mom. You don't need to stay attached to my side at all times."

The blonde smiled as she got to her feet, heading for the door. Glancing at the now cold cup of cocoa, Bulma rubbed her head, marveling at the odd sensation of peach fuzz underneath her fingers. Over the past two hours she had calmed down significantly, but she still found herself prone to crying almost sporadically. She didn't necessarily feel sad when she did it, and it wasn't usually attached to any thought that would normally lead to tears, but could not seem to stop the occasional parade of tears down her cheek.

Bringing her head up slightly, Bulma looked in the direction of the front door, trying to puzzle out who she was hearing. There were two voices, one of them obviously her mother's, but there were certainly three shadows that she saw poking out from around the corner. Curiously, the heiress got to her feet to go see who it was.

"Oh, honey, you're up!" Bunny gushed, hugging her daughter upon her entrance.

Raising what little bits of eyebrows she had Bulma looked at her mother. "Mom, my injuries are completely healed. There's no reason for me _not_ to be up."

"Well, you were just so upset earlier that I thought…"

"_Mom_," Bulma hissed quietly, "not in front of company!"

"Sweetie," Chi-Chi said with an eye roll, "we already know."

Bulma straightened out, all the color draining from her face. With a horrified look, she stared at her mother. "You told them?" she whispered.

"Gracious, no!" Bunny immediately defended. "Sugar, all I did was open the door when they got here. I didn't even know that they were coming over! I was just so excited when your little friends got here, and they already seemed to know everything!"

Warily, Bulma looked at her two guests. Chi-Chi stood in the doorway, a picnic basket hanging from one arm, with a knowing look on her face. Beside her stood Eighteen, her arms crossed and with a look of complete indifference. While Bulma had fairly easily come to accept that over the past twelve years she had become close with the brunette, she was not entirely convinced that the same was true of the blonde.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she turned to Chi-Chi. "And how, exactly, did you manage to find out everything?"

With a look of pride on her face, the brunette quickly produced a cell phone from her bag. "Mommy's little informant never fails," she cockily said.

Bulma's jaw went slack. "Gohan, sweet little Gohan who would never do anything wrong, told you about how my entire life fell apart this morning?"

"First of all," Chi-Chi said with her mothering tone, "your life did not fall apart this morning, it fell apart almost a month ago. You just weren't aware of it until recently. And secondly, while I may joke about it, I do not actually use Gohan to spy on people. When Trunks powered up, Goku and Gohan felt it, and Goku teleported them over here. Gohan called to let me know what happened because, believe me, I needed to know."

Getting defensive, Bulma put her hands on her hips. "And just why do you _need_ to know?" she bit out.

"Because," Chi-Chi calmly answered, "the ascension to the second level of Super Saiyan is a major change, and it's going to change a lot in his life that you're going to need a lot of help with. The rest of us know roughly how to deal with it from…from…"

As the brunette seemed to struggle with the end of her thought, Eighteen rolled her eyes. "From when her son became a little jackass when he went through this."

The dark haired mother whipped around and slapped her blonde counterpart in the shoulder. "You do not get to talk about my little boy like that!" she shouted.

Eighteen seemed unfazed. "Long story short, if your son follows the same pattern, he's going to be a little bastard for the next year."

Bulma immediately followed in Chi-Chi's footsteps, smacking the android. "You stop that!"

"Can we just get on with this?" Eighteen coolly said.

Perking up, Chi-Chi's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, right!" She swiftly turned to Bulma, holding out the basket. "We come bearing gifts of chocolate and alcohol!"

Blinking in surprise, the scientist eyed the basket. "You brought what?"

"Chocolate and alcohol," Eighteen replied. "You've had a bitch of a month, ending with a bitch of a day. You can't tell us that you don't want this."

"Is this a smart idea?" Bulma wearily asked, not entirely opposed to the idea.

"Absolutely," Chi-Chi immediately answered. "Krillen's watching Goten and Marron, the boys are doing their thing right now, Gohan's well aware that this is our plan for the day, and we're going to make sure that there are no interruptions for the next few hours as we celebrate your recovery and just be overall happy."

A small smile began to form on Bulma's face. "You're sure we won't be interrupted?"

Walking all the way in and heading for the kitchen, Chi-Chi nodded. "Absolutely. The men folk have been told that interruption of the women folk will result in a severe lack of sex in their near future. So, barring the end of the world, we will be left completely alone to eat, drink, and be merry." She placed her basket down on the kitchen table and began to rummage through it. "Oh, and we're raiding your movie stash to catch you back up on all of your favorites."

"Are you sure these are still going to be my favorites?" Bulma asked leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.

Chi-Chi looked up at her and smiled. "A quarter are romantic comedies, another quarter regular comedies, and half of them are really hot guys fighting and on adventures. That work for you?"

Bulma smiled back. "That sounds great!"

/////

After several hours, Vegeta finally shoved Goku away, announcing very clearly that they were done.

"Oh, you feel better now?" an exhausted Goku panted, getting to his feet.

Wiping the sweat from his dirty brow, Vegeta glared at the taller man. "Did you not learn from earlier?" he growled.

Goku blinked, trying to think back to what was being referred to. "Oh, you mean about talking to you about how you feel?"

"Drop it now or I swear, Kakarot, I am going to…"

"Oh, don't worry about it," Goku calmly said, trying to wave it off but wincing at the movement. After all of the blocking he had done over the past several hours, he was fairly certain that he had at least a couple of hairline fractures in each arm, and they hurt.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "Start one more sentence with the word 'oh' and I will have to hit you again."

Goku shrugged, easily accepting it. "Hey, do you want me to go see if there's another senzu bean ready yet?" he offered. "You look like you could use it." A rock sailed by the tall man's head, and Goku yelped as he barely dodged it.

"I'm fine," the prince growled, forcing himself to not limp as he began to walk away.

Goku opened his mouth, more than ready to protest, but for once he decided that it was better to just let it go. Vegeta was more than slightly injured. A substantial amount of blood had been spit out, especially during the past few minutes, and Goku was experienced enough to know that the amount of blood coming out was too much to just be from facial injuries. There had to be at least some internal bleeding, and Goku was very worried about it, but he didn't say a word. The last thing he wanted was to worsen Vegeta's mood and make bad injuries worse, and if Vegeta thought that he could take care of it on his own, he probably could.

After several minutes of silence, Goku stretched out his body. "Well, what do you want to do now?" he eagerly asked.

"Good bye, Kakarot," Vegeta simply said, taking off for the house.

Goku nodded to himself, anxiously rubbing his hands together. "Okay," he softly said to himself, beginning to pace around. "At least this time no one died…"

////

Three miles away, Vegeta landed roughly and immediately fell to his knees. His hand reached out to hold on to a tree as he vomited a mouthful of blood. For several minutes he coughed and hacked, emptying more and more blood each time.

He shakily rolled over, leaning against that same try and taking in several ragged, wet breaths. Every movement he made left him wanting to scream in pain. He tilted his head to the side, emptying out another mouthful of blood. Holding back a cry, Vegeta tried to get to his feet, but he could not do it. Exhausted, he slumped back against the tree.

The prince had refused help from his rival out of spite and pride. He was sick of having every person he knew 'wanting to help'. He was tired of the way they were all looking at him. He hated the way every talked to him like he was weak and incapable of dealing with his own problems. So when Kakarot had offered him help, with that pitying look on his face and using that voice he usually used on Goten, Vegeta had been so angry that he refused the help.

As he shuddered against the tree, he was severely regretting it.

He needed help, and he needed it badly. He could feel blood pooling in his lungs and his stomach. He could tell that several of his organs had taken major injury. And as his vision blurred and he broke out into a cold sweat, he realized that his spleen had likely ruptured completely.

Gasping for air, Vegeta tried to raise his power level, hoping to signal his location to any of the others. Try as he might, though, it was not happening.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, his eyes rolling up in his head as he blacked out.

No one knew where he was. No one knew he was seriously injured. No one knew that he needed help.

For the first time in a month, he was completely alone.


	20. Chapter 20

"Ladies," Eighteen said, lifting her glass of champagne, "to an afternoon of freedom from responsibility."

The brunette fighter and the temporarily bald heiress raised their own glasses, smiles on both of their faces. They had all been going through quite a bit of stress over the past month, and the idea of having even one afternoon off of all of it was extremely appreciated by them all. Bulma had hardly been the only one having a rough month.

Chi-Chi had been trying to take care of three overly anxious Son's in her house. Between trying to keep Goku away from Vegeta, keeping Gohan from blaming himself for the entire situation, and having to explain to Goten three times a day that until Trunks decided that it was time to play again, he would be the one to call, she had barely had the time to even cook, let alone clean, garden, do laundry, or run errands. Putting her feet up was not even within the range of her fantasies.

Eighteen had found herself as a half time baby-sitter and half time spy. Due to Goten's inability to go without playing with someone else for more than a day at a time and Gohan's stress and moodiness, the smallest member of the Son family had spent every other day on Kame Island. When her husband was open to play with the children for an extended period of time, the blonde would fly over to check on the two princes. As the only one with no discernable energy, she was the only one who could get even a little bit close to their isolated home. While she had never been particularly fond of Vegeta, she had made a promise to Krillen, who had made a promise to Goku, to make sure that things were quiet in that little home. She, too, had been under significantly more stress than she was used to.

So there they were, three women, all in need of a day without thoughts, a day without stress, a day without responsibility. A moderately priced bottle of champagne was keeping cool in a bucket of ice, and a box of very nice chocolates was open between them. Chi-Chi had brought chocolate cookies in dough form, so they were easily popped in the oven and flooding the room with their delicious aroma. All cell phones had been turned off, all other phones were unplugged from the wall, even the computer had been disconnected, just to make sure that no one could talk to them.

For the first time in weeks, all three of them were smiling.

With their feet kicked up on a coffee table, the ladies clinked their glasses and began to finally relax and enjoy the day.

/////

Goku landed next to the lake and immediately pulled off his clothes. There was very little in life that he enjoyed more than swimming around in a nice cool lake after a nice long fight, and even he needed a break from everything that had been going on lately. Rolling out his stiff shoulders, he let out a giddy little cry as he cannon balled into the pristine water. He held his breath for only a minute before surfacing, shaking the drops free from his hair as he smiled broadly.

The Saiyan spent a few minutes just floating around in the water before finally getting down to cleaning himself off. Starting with his shoulders, he slowly used the cool water and his calloused hands to scrub away the dried blood that was stuck to him. There wasn't too much around the top of his shoulders, so they were quickly taken care of. But as he worked his way down his chest, a frown reached his youthful face. Blood had never bothered him before. If anything, he actually enjoyed it a little too much for someone who fought on the side of good. But as he cleaned the dried and drying blood off of his torso, he knew there was too much.

Goku had been fighting all his life, and as such, was intimately familiar with how much he bled from injuries. He may not have been the sharpest tack in the box when it came to 'normal life', but he would never miss something battle related or injury based. The cuts on his body were minimal, but the blood seemed to be everywhere. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Slowly, Goku got out of the water and picked up his shirt. He had certainly watched Vegeta spit up a fair amount of blood during the fight, but blood was always a common occurrence during their fights. Sure, it had seemed like there was more than the usual amount, but when the prince was in a particularly feisty mood, it was just something that had to be accepted. And since Goku had never particularly cared about how dirty or banged up he was after a fight, he hadn't bothered looking at his shirt.

His shirt had blood all over it, and Goku didn't need his super sense of smell to tell that the vast majority of it was not his. Thanks to his weighted undershirt, he had never felt the wetness against his chest.

"Oh, Kami," he whispered, staring at the hardening shirt. His hands started to tremble as he really began to realize what that much blood loss would mean. Goku's head snapped up as he tried to sense the prince's energy, and his heart beat raced as he realized that he couldn't sense it.

"Crap, crap crap…" he muttered, barely taking the time to jump into his pants before teleporting as fast as he could for his son.

If he wanted to have any chance at finding the prince in time, he was going to need help.

/////

Gohan jumped a bit as his father appeared. "Geez, Dad," he said, a smile on his face, "we've got to find a way to get some sort of warning system when you're going to do that."

"Come with me," Goku commanded.

The teenager felt his blood run cold at his father's tone. It was one he hadn't heard since Namek, when the world was going to hell in a hand basket and Goku was trying to force Gohan to get to safety. It meant something was very seriously wrong.

Glancing down at Trunks, Gohan decided that it would be okay to abandon his post for something that got his father _that_ worked up. "What is it, Dad?" he asked as they took to the sky.

Goku related the story as quickly as he could to Gohan, emphasizing the point that time was of the essence. As Gohan realized that he, too, was incapable of picking up any sense of energy from the prince, he came very close to a full panic. The dragon balls were still a long way off from being fully charged, and the teenager was fairly certain that if the prince died, he would not be going to the same place Goku ended up.

"I'll check north, you check south," he said, veering off from his father.

They had a lot of ground to cover, and no time to cover it.

/////

"I'm telling you, something isn't right!" Krillen hissed, trying to make sure that his daughter and Goten didn't hear him.

Yamcha, who had come over at a stressed out Krillen's request, rolled his eyes. "Knowing this group? Probably. But Bulma is flanked by two scary, overprotective women, and Gohan and Goku are watching the other two lunatics. How much could possibly go wrong?"

Krillen opened up the refrigerator and began pulling out snacks for the children. "A lot," he gently whispered. "We know that Goku and Vegeta were fighting each other, and is it just me, or did Vegeta just magically fall off the radar?"

The taller fighter shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe Goku teleported him to another planet to cool off for a while."

"Does that seem likely to you?" the tiny man asked, cutting apples into slices for the kids.

With a heavy sigh, Yamcha sat down at the table. "No," he reluctantly admitted, "but I can't think of any other way to explain it that would have a happy ending. I mean, the explanation that currently makes the most sense is that Goku accidentally…you know…"

Gently placing his knife down, Krillen nodded. "I know," he whispered back, keeping his eyes on the table. "You don't think that he actually did…you know?"

"I don't know," the former bandit responded, also keeping his gaze averted. "I mean, he would never do it on purpose, but sometimes…well, he really isn't always aware of his own strength…"

The laughter of children sounded in the background as the two men fell into complete silence. Neither of them could bring themselves to finish the sentence, no matter how much they were both thinking it.

/////

Gohan's heart leapt to his throat as he began to notice a faint smell of blood in the air. While his sense of smell was not anywhere near that of his father, it was still significantly better than any human's. It seemed to be getting fainter as he kept flying, though, so he swiftly turned around. It took him precious seconds to figure out which direction it was heading in, but as soon as he did, he ascended and took off.

Goku's head snapped to the side as he felt the power jump in his son, and he immediately sped toward it. Praying that they had made it on time, he pushed himself to his absolute limit to meet up with his son.

"Did you find him?" Goku panted.

"I think so," Gohan called out, descending to the ground as fast as he could. Both of them came to a grinding halt when they finally found what they were looking for.

Vegeta's head was lolled off to the side, leaning against the trunk of a tree. A pool of blood surrounded him, and his clothes were already hardening with the drying blood. His face was virtually white, and trails of blood seemed to be leaking from his mouth and nose.

"Oh, Kami…" Goku whispered.

Gohan grabbed his father's hand and pulled him down into the blood as he placed a hand on Vegeta's chest. He would not make the same mistake he had just a few weeks earlier.

"GET US TO THE LOOKOUT, NOW!!!"

Responding strictly to the sound of his son's voice, Goku slammed his fingers to his forehead and concentrated as hard as he could on Dende's energy. The two Son's were gone in a blink of an eye, appearing a moment later at the palace in the sky.

With a grim look on his face, Dende, who had been waiting for them, knelt down and got to work.

/////

"Did you ever get that feeling that there's something you should be doing, but you don't know what it is?"

Chi-Chi and Eighteen lowered their glasses, looking at the temporarily bald heiress. "What?" the blonde asked.

Taking another sip from her glass, Bulma stretched out her legs and rolled her shoulders. "I don't know what it is, but I just get this feeling like there's something really important I should be doing right now."

The brunette offered a simple shrug, pulling a chocolate from the box. "Maybe you had a business meeting or something today. You know, you are the president of the single largest enterprise on the entire planet. I don't know how much you did for the company a decade ago, but you're always giving presentations and checking up on the latest projects."

Bulma leaned back on the couch, raising a would-be eyebrow at the younger mother. "I really do all of that?" she said with a hint of a laugh.

"And you brag about it all the time," Eighteen added with an eye roll. "Every time we see you, it's 'I closed a deal on this' or 'I just invented that' or 'You will never guess whose ass I just kicked in negotiations today'."

"So," Chi-Chi concluded, "it was probably something along those lines that you had scheduled for today, but since the entire world knows that you're 'recovering' from a 'moderate car accident', it would have been cancelled anyway."

Topping off her drink, Bulma thought about what she had learned. "I thought you guys told me at the party that my story was kept out of the media."

"It was," Eighteen coolly replied. "At least, it was while we still weren't sure whether or not you'd, you know, die. As soon as we knew you were likely to make it, we had to offer the media a little something. After all, your head was shaved when they tried to put your skull back together. You would have been bald no matter what, and we figured 'recovering from accident' was a lot nicer sounding than 'has spontaneously decided to shave herself bald'."

"I don't know," Chi-Chi answered with a giggle, "I think, 'burned off all head hair in a bizarre science accident' has a nice ring to it."

"'Late life punk rocker phase'," supplied the cyborg.

"'Cooking experiment gone awry'?" the brunette chuckled.

Eighteen laughed. "That might be the most believable one I've heard yet!"

"Hey!" Bulma shouted, putting down her glass. "I am not that bad a cook!"

Chi-Chi snorted, taking another sip from her own glass. "We beg to differ," she laughed. "You burn food, you theorize alternatives to recipes based solely on a chemical level with now knowledge of how it tastes, hell, I've heard that you've managed to set _cereal_ on fire."

"Oh, that can't _possibly_ be true!" Bulma countered.

Holding up her hands defensively, Chi-Chi just laughed. "Hey, all I know is what I hear!"

The balded heiress crossed her arms and slouched back against the couch. "Boy, do _you_ guys know how to cheer someone up," she pouted.

"We do, don't we?" Eighteen responded, an amused look on her face.

Sitting up slightly, Bulma reached once more for her glass. "Seriously, though," she said, reclining again, "I have this gut feeling like I need to be out there, doing something."

"We told you," Chi-Chi assured, topping off Bulma's glass, "anything that you may have had on your schedule have been long rescheduled or dealt with by your father."

"But I have no memory," the scientist reasoned, swirling her beverage. "How can I know that I need to be doing something when I don't even know what I do anymore?"

Eighteen kicked up her feet and took a sip. "How should we know?" she countered. "We are neither neurologists nor do we have access to your warped mind. Perhaps it is the beginning of your mind healing itself."

"Maybe," Bulma acknowledged. "Still, I just know I should be doing something…somewhere else…"

/////

"Why is it taking so long?" Goku demanded, pacing back and forth frantically on the Lookout.

Gohan remained kneeling next to Dende. "Sometimes it just takes longer," he responded without looking up.

"But he is alive, right?" the pureblood asked.

No one said a word.

"Right?" he asked again.

"Goku, please, I'm trying to concentrate," Dende tensely answered.

As the rattled Saiyan seemed ready to ask another question, he found himself pulled aside by Piccolo. "Goku, Dende will not be able to help at all if you continue to get in his way. You must stand back and have faith in his abilities."

With a look of desperation is his eyes, the Saiyan looked up into the Namek's eyes. "Just tell me that I didn't kill him," he asked.

"Have faith," Piccolo repeated, placing a reassuring hand on Goku's shoulder.

"Oh, Kami, no…" Goku whispered, pulling back. His eyes widened in horror. "No, tell me I didn't do it…"

"Goku…"

"TELL ME I DIDN'T DO IT!"

"Dad," Gohan softly said as he jumped to his feet, "we don't know anything yet. And even if, Kami forbid, the worst has happened, we all know that it was an accident. You would never do it on purpose, and we can always wish him back."

Goku shook his head as tears began to form in his eyes. "I killed him…I actually killed Vegeta…"

"No, you didn't," Piccolo responded.

"I thought he was okay," the Saiyan went on. "I mean, he was still talking, and he flew away on his own…I just never would have thought that he was that badly hurt...I killed him, oh, Kami, I killed him…"

Glancing down, Gohan put his hands on his father's shoulders. "You did not kill him," he assured.

"Yes, I did!" Goku said, near hysterical. "I killed him with my own two hands! I murdered him! I…"

"Goku!" Dende called out, glaring over his shoulder. "Vegeta's alive!"

The younger pureblood was on the ground faster than anyone could blink. "He's okay?" he desperately asked. "He's really okay?"

Dende smiled at the warrior. "Well, he's not quite up for a rematch yet," he joked, "but he is breathing on his own just fine, and with a little rest, he'll be good as new."

"Oh, thank you," Goku sighed, closing his eyes in relief. "Vegeta? Are you awake yet?"

The little guardian laughed lightly. "Goku, he's going to be out for a while. He was pretty seriously wounded, so it took quite a bit out of both of us to fix him up. Don't worry, he'll be just fine, but he's probably going to be asleep for a few hours."

"Perfect," Gohan responded, clapping his hands together and smiling to himself. "I'll have plenty of time to get back to Trunks before he wakes up." The teenager turned to his father to quickly explain the promise he had made, ending with, "If anyone asks, _you_ found him," before flying off to the boy.

The others simply stood back and relaxed for a moment. It was a moment they all sorely needed.

/////

"Oh, would you let it go already?" Eighteen groaned, flopping back in her chair.

"What?" Bulma shot back, throwing a chocolate at the blonde. "It's true!"

Chi-Chi groaned. "True or not, just drop it!"

"Seriously!" the scientist insisted. "I swear, I'm supposed to be doing something right now!"

"We don't care!" the other two shouted back.

Pouting again, Bulma filled her glass with champagne. "Then figure out what I should be doing!" she insisted.

Blowing some stray hair off her face, Chi-Chi turned toward Eighteen. "Any way we can do that?"

"Without access to all of your computer files, the most either of us could do would be to make sure that everyone is okay," the blonde coolly responded. When the heiress glared at her, Eighteen rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll do it." Her icy eyes narrowed as she began scanning the energies of the group members. One by one they were checked off, until she reached one mild glitch. Vegeta's energy was there, but there was something definitely something off about it.

It was there, though, and since she didn't feel like listening to Bulma complain, she decided not to mention it.

"Everyone is fine," she finally answered. "Everyone is alive and well, your company is taken care of, and you have the most ridiculously loyal group of friends in the galaxy to help you get through whatever crap might possibly be thrown your way. Now will you shut the hell up and drink?"

Giggling again, Bulma took a good solid drink from her glass. "Deal!"

For the first time in weeks, things were finally looking up.


	21. Chapter 21

Eighteen glared at her cell phone as she flipped it open. After her little discovery minutes earlier, she had excused herself from their little party to try to figure out just what exactly was going on. She quickly dialed and brought the phone up, an angry look on her face as Yamcha picked up the other line.

"Put my husband on," she coolly commanded. As she waited for someone else to come on the line, the blonde walked all the way outside and leaned against the exterior wall of the house.

A small shuffle was heard on the other side. "Hello?"

"What the hell is going on?" Eighteen hissed.

"Oh, hi honey!" her husband cheerfully responded.

"What the hell is going on?" she repeated, making sure to keep her angry voice as quiet as possible. "I just did a ki scan of everyone, and Vegeta's is almost nonexistent."

Krillen shifted the phone to his shoulder as he wiped off his hands with a dish towel. "I don't know," he sighed. The short man glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the children were well out of hearing range before continuing. "Goku and Vegeta were fighting it out for a while, but when the fight broke up they were both still, well, noticeable. It was a couple minutes later that we felt Goku and Gohan spike, and by the time that happened…"

Eighteen rolled her eyes. "So Goku knocked the bastard out," she concluded. It made perfect sense, after all. Vegeta flew off the handle when he was worked up, and it stood reasonable to conclude that the taller Saiyan would have taken the prince down hard in order to keep him contained.

"No."

The blonde stiffened slightly. "No?" she repeated. "Then why…"

"I don't know," Krillen softly said. "Yamcha and I were trying to track the fight from here, but we only can tell so much from a distance." Again, he checked over his shoulder to make sure that the children could not hear him. "It was about three minutes after the fight _ended_ that Vegeta disappeared and Goku spiked, and they weren't next to each other when it happened."

"Shit," she muttered, whipping around in frustration. "I thought we were supposed to be trying to put this family back together, not kill them off one by one."

"Eighteen," Krillen said in a soothing voice, "take it easy. I've been keeping tabs from here. Yes, it bottomed out there for a while, but they went straight up to Dende and Vegeta's been stabilized. I don't know what went wrong, but everything seems to be fine. Gohan's back with Trunks, who is still asleep. Goku and Piccolo are up on the Lookout with Dende, keeping an eye on Vegeta. And you and Chi-Chi are keeping Bulma sane, right?"

Sighing, his wife slumped slightly against the wall. "Right," she softly said. "If anything else comes up, please let me know."

"I will, honey," Krillen softly said. "I wish we could talk longer, but Yamcha's just been tackled by Goten and our sweet little girl is about to tickle him to death. I really should finish making their snack and save my friend from a giggling death."

With a smirk, Eighteen wrapped an arm around her waist. "In that order, right?"

"Do you know a better way to distract Goten?" Krillen replied with a soft laugh. "Look, I gotta go. I love you!"

Eighteen smiled softly to herself. "I love you, too," she quietly said before hanging up. She slowly slid the phone into her pocket and returned to the other two mothers inside.

/////

"Would you like something to eat?"

Goku turned around to glance at Dende. The young Namekian had grown substantially since the Saiyan had died eight years earlier, and even though he had been back for over a year, it still took him a moment to process the change. "No, thank you," he quietly answered.

Piccolo perked slightly at that response. "Son Goku, turning down food?"

With a sad look on his face, the Saiyan shook his head. "I'm sorry, guys, but I really just don't feel like eating or anything right now."

Shooting a glance at the youngest alien, Piccolo gave a slight nod toward the palace. Dende took the hint and excused himself, claiming that he had some unfinished business to attend to and leaving the two warriors alone.

"What is it?" the taller fighter asked.

Goku ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "I don't know," he quietly said, starting to pace. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what it is. All I know is that lately, it feels like everything I'm doing is just getting in the way. I yelled at Bulma when she was in a coma, I had a breakdown when we were supposed to be keeping an eye on the kids, I ran away when Bulma's dad asked me how she was, I let my fear of needles risk Trunks' life, and I nearly killed Vegeta when I was supposed to be helping him calm down!"

The Saiyan paused his pacing, and his arms dropped to his sides in defeat. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered. "I used to always know what to do! I never used to let anything bother me! I…I just can't seem to get it right anymore…"

The warrior sat down on the pristine ground of the Lookout and hung his head. "Everything's just been so wrong lately," he softly said. "Everything's wrong and for once, I have no idea how to make it right."

Not being particularly skilled at comforting, Piccolo simply opted to stand in silence. He, too, had noticed that the Saiyan had been off his game as of late, and while he had his own theories of why exactly that may be, he would not speak them out loud.

It could only make things worse.

/////

"Come on, Goten, it's your turn!" Marron cheerfully encouraged. When the little boy did not react, she frowned and leaned her head to the side. "Goten?" she asked. "Goten, it's your turn! Roll the dice!"

The half Saiyan boy blinked as he looked at his blonde friend. "Huh?" he asked.

Marron rolled her eyes. "It's your turn," she repeated, starting to get frustrated.

"Oh," the elder child responded. "Sorry, I guess I kinda spaced out for a while."

The little girl leaned her head to the other side before getting up and walking around the game board. "Goten?" she gently asked. "Why don't you wanna play the game anymore?"

Goten sighed and looked out the window, toward the beach. "I'm sorry," he genuinely apologized. "I just really miss playing with Trunks."

Marron huffed and pushed his head. "What, I'm not fun enough to play with?"

"Hey!" Goten protested, staring at his younger friend and moving out of the reach of her arms. "I didn't say you weren't fun! I said that I miss playing with Trunks!" He frowned and looked down at the floor. "I've never been away from him for this long."

The boy's lower lip began to quiver, and he kept his eyes on the rug. "He's my best friend, Marron," he went on, his lip trembling. "He's been with me for as long as I can remember. I've always played with him, at least once a week for my whole life. Mommy used to say that we were actually long lost twins, but I never really got that, since Trunks was always there, and how can you be long lost if you've always been there?"

The little girl crossed her arms as she plopped down next to her friend. "At least you always had someone to play with," she pouted. "You boys are never here, and when you do come over, you never want to play with me."

Goten's eyes got huge. "That's not true!" he argued back. "We play with you!"

"Only when we're stuck inside or building a sand castle!" the pigtailed girl argued back. "You never play your other games with me!"

"Because we're not allowed!" the half Saiyan hollered back. "Mommy and Auntie Bulma said we're not allowed to play with you like that because we're Saiyan's and we might hurt you on accident!"

Blowing a raspberry at her companion, Marron settled into full blown pout mode. "You're just saying that because I'm a girl!" she grumbled back.

"I am not!" Goten hollered hack. "It's got nothing to do with you being a girl! It's because you are a human!"

Marron took a swing at Goten and connected firmly with his shoulder. "Ow!" she screamed, pulling her hurt hand in to her lap.

"See?" Goten shot back, throwing up his arms in frustration. "I can't even let you beat me up without you getting hurt! How am I supposed to play tag with you, or wrestle with you, or play any of our other games with you if you get hurt with me just sittin' here?"

Again, the little girl huffed. "Well, you should find a way!" she shouted back. "I hate being left out just because I'm a human! I wanna play with you guys!"

"Well it's not like we don't _want_ to play with you!" Goten hollered. "We don't have anyone else to play with!"

"Then you need to become a human so you can play with _me_!" the blonde fought. When Goten did not respond immediately, the little girl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms again. "You're stupid."

"You're stupid!" the half Saiyan fought back.

And with that the fight ended as the two children pouted and glared out the window.

/////

"So, how did we become actual friends?" Bulma asked. When the younger woman looked almost offended, Bulma used her spare hand to wave it off. "You know what I mean," she clarified, swallowing some of her drink. "The last time I remember seeing you, you had just dropped off Gohan in that dorky little outfit and had put so much gel in his hair that it didn't move once on that entire trip. Sorry, honey, but you and I have never spent any real time together as far as my memory is concerned."

Grumbling as she pulled her hair tie out, Chi-Chi responded, "Oh, you make me sound like nothing but a boring old biddy."

Bulma chuckled, taking another sip. "Do you really want me to comment on that?"

"Shut up," the brunette responded, shaking her hair out. "It's not like you were all that much fun to hang out with twelve years ago."

"Hey!" the balded heiress sputtered. "I was a lot of fun!"

Snorting, Chi-Chi sipped at her drink. "Please," she shot. "I heard the stories from Gohan and Krillen. You were a pain in the ass on that trip." Before the elder woman could counter, Chi-Chi finally answered the question. "When Goku left eight years ago, I was already three months pregnant with Goten. I was scared and alone, and without a husband or a direct source of income, the idea of raising two half Saiyan sons alone was overwhelming."

Slowly, she took another sip. "About a month after Cell…a story that you'll here about some other time…I called you because I needed help. Gohan was getting out of control, and as my pregnancy progressed, I realized that it was going to be a lot harder than the first time. Every little thing about it was so much harder, and I couldn't do it alone. I didn't exactly have a lot of friends I could call, but you and I are the only women on this planet to have carried Saiyan children. It seemed like you were the good choice to call."

The heiress cringed slightly. It was no secret to her that Chi-Chi had never exactly had a large social circle, but it was painful to hear that the woman had to have gone an entire month into her second trimester, with all of her difficulties, before she had to _resort_ to asking for her help.

"Anyway," Chi-Chi went on, swirling her glass, "I was confined to bed rest a few weeks later, and you let us come stay here with you guys so that you and your mom could help me and Vegeta could keep Gohan in check."

Bulma froze at that statement, her glass poised at her lips. Slowly, she set it down on the table, a somber look on her face. "Vegeta…" she whispered.

Chi-Chi's eyes grew wide as she realized her mistake. "So," she tried to continue, hoping to distract the heiress, "after Goten was born, he and Trunks formed an almost instantaneous bond. The boys have been practically joined at the hip from day one, and after all of those years of play dates and sparring matches, you and I finally got a chance to spend a lot of time with each other. Over time, we became quite close."

"Right," Bulma said with a distant voice. "While we're on the topic of our families…"

"Oh, don't do this to me," Chi-Chi pleaded.

"Sorry," the heiress said in a completely unsympathetic tone. "You guys came to cheer me up, and I will not be happy until I at least know how I ended up with _Vegeta_ of all people."

Groaning, the brunette put down her own glass and put her face in her hands. "Bulma, I can't answer that."

Bulma began to grow frustrated with her friend. "Chi-Chi, I'm getting kind of sick of all this side stepping around my personal life!"

"I'm not side stepping!" the younger woman snapped back. "I honestly don't know how you ended up with him! No one does! You two had been together for a year and had a son together before any of us even _suspected_ that you two would be together!"

"You just said that you and I have spent a lot of time together over the last eight years," Bulma countered. "Are you seriously telling me that in all that time, I never once told you how it all began?"

"Yes!" the brunette shouted back. "You'll talk about just about everything else in the world, including what you two do in bed together, but even when we asked you, you never told us how it happened. So if you want to blame anyone for not knowing what the hell made _that_ happen, then you can blame yourself!"

From the doorway, an alto voice cleared. "I leave for five minutes and you two fall apart," chided Eighteen, entering the room and shaking her head. "You two are just pathetic." With catlike grace, she sat down between them and refreshed her beverage. "If you two can't act like the adults that you supposedly are, I'm taking the good stuff and flying away."

The other two women huffed as they slouched back against the couch.

"That's it," the blonde tacked on. "Act like the children. That's a lot of fun."

Bulma and Chi-Chi snapped their heads to the side, glaring hard at the icy blonde. Eighteen, however, remained completely unfazed by them. Having spent the last few days on daycare duty, such a mild temper tantrum seemed hardly worth commenting on.

Five minutes passed in total silence and virtually no movement. Finally, Bulma leaned forward, looking past Eighteen and over to Chi-Chi. "I wouldn't tell you how he and I got together, but I would tell you about our sex life?"

"Talk about?" Eighteen snorted. "Please. You would _brag_ about it."

Slowly, a wicked smirk crossed the heiress' features. "He's that good?"

"According to you," Chi-Chi answered, once again grabbing her glass, "he's phenomenal." The brunette took a good solid gulp before adding, "And creative."

"Really?" the bald woman pushed.

Taking a smaller sip, the younger mother rolled her eyes. "Let's just say that I don't need to know the details of how that crack ended up on your kitchen ceiling."

"_The kitchen ceiling_?!?" Bulma squeaked, shooting to her feet. She wavered for a moment, trying to fight off the beginning effects of her drinks as she got her balance. She quickly walked to the room in question, leaving her companions behind.

Remaining on the couch, Eighteen raised a blonde eyebrow at Chi-Chi. "They did it on the kitchen ceiling?"

"I have no idea," the other woman confessed, giggling as she put down her glass. "All I know is that there's a crack on their kitchen ceiling, and I wanted to get her on to a subject she would actually enjoy."

A devilish smirk crossed the cyborg's face. "Chi-Chi, you are positively evil."

Shrugging, the brunette ran her fingers through her long black hair and glanced at the doorway, making sure that the heiress was still out of the room. "Maybe, but I'm want this whole nightmare behind us as soon as possible, and I am willing to say whatever I have to in order for her to start thinking of Vegeta as something other than a monster."

"True," the blonde agreed. "And the sex life really is the best way to get that ball rolling."

"Yeah," the dark haired woman snickered, "but let's face it, given the stories she's told us, that probably is the most likely way that crack in the kitchen got in that particular spot. If I really wanted to be evil, I'd tell her about the report Goten gave me after he and Trunks walked in on them that one time."

"They WHAT?!?"

"Oops," Chi-Chi giggled, barely trying to look coy, "I guess she's back in the room…"


	22. Chapter 22

Happy Thanksgiving!

/////

Exhausted, Krillen and Yamcha flopped down on the couch. "You've been doing this every day?" the taller man balked.

"Yep," groaned Krillen, stretching out his legs. "You have now been exposed to the basic day in the life of a parent. You wake up at the crack of dawn to make sure that you get at least a little bit of alone time that does not involve cleaning or wishing you were in bed. Then you have to select and make a nutritious breakfast for your offspring. As soon as that's been taken care of, you get to try to clean the dishes as your child, who is now _wide_ awake, is frantically trying to get your attention because their _toy_ just said something fantastic. For the next fourteen hours, you run around frantically trying to cook, clean, organize, play, go to the store, fix the cabinets, teach your child, and try to remember that once upon a time, you used to be kinda cool. When, at the end of the day and after an hour long fight, you finally manage to wrestle that child into bed and keep them there, you look down on their sleeping faces and think that they're such a sweet little angel. Then you get to clean up any mess you didn't manage to get to earlier in the day, and then, finally and at last, you get to crawl into your bed and fall into the world's most blissful coma."

With a matching groan, Yamcha stretched out his very sore back. "Man, I have no idea how you guys do this every day."

"Well," Krillen admitted, "normally it's a little easier around here. I mean, Goten, as cute and sweet as he is, makes it a lot harder. My little cutie may throw more temper tantrums, but she's never accidentally cracked my ribs by tackling me."

The scarred fighter laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that would be true. I mean, he's really like a young Goku, but with more power."

Krillen shook his head and brushed his hair back for a moment. "Nah," he responded. "Goten, alone, is a lot easier than Goku was as a kid. Goten takes direction."

Yamcha raised his eyebrows at that comment. "Alone?"

"Like I said, Goten takes direction," the short man laughed. "Unfortunately for all of us adults, most of his directions come from Trunks, who is not nearly as good at taking direction."

The former bandit chuckled. "Tell me about it. I don't spend nearly as much time with them as you do, but I think anyone who's spent more than five minutes with them can tell that Trunks is the leader, Goten's the follower, and that there isn't an ounce of common sense between them."

"Yeah," Krillen agreed. "But no matter how much trouble they get into, no matter what chaos they cause, no matter what insane scheme they come up with together, I don't think anyone would be cruel enough to keep them apart from each other." After a moment of reflection, he lowered his head, adding, "Except now."

Nodding, Yamcha tried again to stretch out his back. "Is that what Goten's mood was about today?" he genuinely asked.

"Yep," Krillen confirmed. "He's basically started to show the signs of withdrawal." He let out a tired sigh and shook his head. "We've got to figure out something to help Trunks, fast, or Goten is just going to snap."

A quiet beep went off on Yamcha's watch, and he groaned as he got onto his tired legs. "That's my cue."

When Krillen shot him a confused look, the scarred fighter chuckled as he explained his leaving. "Remember that phone call I got a few hours ago from Gohan?"

"Yeah?"

"Well," the tall man said, walking for the door, "he mentioned that Goku's apparently having a rough day, and asked if I could be the one to pick up Chi-Chi from Capsule Corp. at the end of their little soiree. After all, it's not like she can exactly _drive_ home tonight."

"True," Krillen laughed. "Eighteen doesn't seem to be all that effected by booze, but I'm willing to bet that Bulma and Chi-Chi are pretty damn hammered." Stretching out as he walked his friend to the door, he offered him a small salute. "Thanks for helping me wrangle the kids today."

Yamcha offered a simple wave as he took off into the sky, heading straight for Capsule Corp.

/////

"How is he?" Goku whispered, looking down at the sleeping prince.

Dende had to fight the urge to roll his eyes and groan. His reputation for being patient was well earned, but that Saiyan was really pushing his limits. Since Vegeta had been brought to the Lookout almost fifteen hours earlier, Goku had been demanding updates on his health every ten minutes. "He's going to be fine, Goku," he reassured again. "Why don't you go find Mr. Popo and see if he'll get you something to eat?"

The warrior shook his head, looking forlorn. "I'm not really hungry right now."

"Goku, you're only going to make yourself sick if you don't eat anything," the little god pointed out. "Do you think your friends and family can deal with that?" When there was a moment of silence, the Namekien pat him gently on the back. "Go and sustain yourself, Goku. We'll let you know if anything changes."

Goku looked hesitant, but eventually gave in. "Thanks, Dende," he softly spoke, leaving the room.

After the Saiyan had left, Piccolo, who had been standing quietly in the corner through the exchange, voiced his own concerns. "It is unusual, Dende, for him to be out for this amount of time."

Glaring at his elder, Dende waved his staff in frustration. "Don't you start," he threatened. "I may not be a warrior like you are, but I swear, if you start asking me the same questions I just got Goku to _stop_ asking me, I will drop you."

The taller man smirked at his smaller counterpart. It happened rarely, but he was amused whenever the young guardian showed that spark of inner fire. "I am not questioning whether or not he will survive," he clarified. "I just wish to understand why every other time I have witnessed you heal someone, they have immediately gotten up, while Vegeta has been out for the majority of the day."

"That's simple," Dende responded, lowering his staff. "Vegeta has been taking very poor care of himself for almost a month. He has virtually never slept, his training has been minimal, and when you calculate the amount of food he's consumed against what it takes to run his body, he has been starving himself." Softly, he nodded toward the unconscious prince. "I do not know if you were aware of it, but he has lost a significant amount of weight lately."

Piccolo simply nodded. It had not escaped him, but it had seemed to escape everyone else. While he had been hiding it underneath long sleeves, Vegeta was significantly smaller, especially in his arms and chest.

"As such," Dende went on, "his body was well drained before that fight even started. I healed his wounds, but his body is trying to get the rest that it has been desperately needing for weeks." He shook his head, looking at the unconscious Saiyan. "He will wake up, but if he doesn't start to take care of himself, it's not going to end well."

"Indeed," Piccolo softly agreed. "Indeed."

/////

Yamcha landed quietly in the back of the compound and walked up to the door. He shook his head sadly as he entered his entrance code, remembering carefree days of his youth when he came and went from the home at his leisure. He had long ago come to terms with the way his life had turned out, but it never stopped him from missing certain parts of his past.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is anybody here?"

No one gave a formal answer, but he did manage to follow the series of giggles to the first floor living room. "Hello?" he called out again.

Eighteen gave him a look of indifference as she placed her champagne on the table. Almost faster than Yamcha could register, the icy blonde was standing right next to him. "What the hell took you so long to get here?" she hissed, making sure her voice was too low for her intoxicated companions to hear.

"Hey, calm down," Yamcha defensively responded. "First of all, I'm just the back up. Secondly, I was playing with _your_ kid. And third, why are you so mad at spending time with your own damn friends?"

"Because I've been with them for over twelve hours," the cyborg growled, "and as the only one who doesn't get drunk, it has been _my_ responsibility to control the flow of alcohol. Chi-Chi and Bulma are fine in moderation _when sober_. They're a pain in the ass after their third hour smashed."

The former bandit rolled his eyes. "Well, forgive me," he sarcastically said. "You're free to go, m'lady."

"Jackass," Eighteen grumbled, heading out the door.

As she left, Bulma looked up. "Hey!" she giggled. "It's Yamcha!"

"Already?" Chi-Chi pouted.

Yamcha did a double take as he looked upon his friend's wife. He had not seen Chi-Chi with her hair down since they had first met, back when he had been seventeen and she was barely twelve. He had also not seen her so revealed. Through the duration of the 'gathering', the strict mother of two had decided to get 'comfy'. She had changed from her traditionally conservative dress to what he recognized as a pair of Bulma's extremely short denim shorts and a fairly see through undershirt, leaving her bra fairly exposed. With her black hair flowing around her shoulders and her well toned body finally on display, the thirty seven year old mother looked much more like a twenty five year old vixen.

"Damn," the scarred fighter muttered. "We gotta get her drunk more often…" Quickly, he shook himself out of his thoughts. "Alright, ladies, the bar is closed for the night and the taxi service is here." He walked up to them and pulled the champagne bottle away from them. "Time to get dressed, Chi-Chi."

"Don't wanna," She pouted, her speech very slurred.

"Sorry, you don't get a choice," the fighter lightly said. "Dorm closes in half an hour, and you need to be in your bunk before lights out."

Ignoring him, Chi-Chi turned back to Bulma. "I don't care what you think, my ass is still finer than yours," she slurred.

Yamcha felt his face turn a brilliant red at her comments. "Ladies, it's time to…"

"Nuh-uh," the heiress slurred back. "Everyone knows that I'm hotter than you are."

"Please," the younger woman snorted. "You may have bigger boobs, but I am so much hotter than you are. You're slender, _I'm_ firm." Giggling, she fell back into the couch. "You don't even have hair!"

Bulma wailed slightly, trying to throw a pillow at her friend but missing by a mile. "Only for a little bit!" she cried. Looking up at her former flame, she smiled. "Yamcha!" she eagerly said. "Who's hotter, me or Chi-Chi?"

Swallowing hard, the fighter approached both of them. "As I can see no possible way for this to end well for me, I'm going to have to insist that Chi-Chi gets back in her dress so I can take her home, and for you to get yourself to bed. Oh," he added, "and you may want to make sure the trash can is nearby. You're going to need it."

"Fine, fine," Chi-Chi slurred, staggering to her feet. "I'll get back in that frumpy old thing." With the grace of a newborn giraffe, the female fighter struggled up the staircase to Bulma's room, where she had changed several hours earlier.

Still exhausted from chasing down Goten and Marron all day, Yamcha decided to take the moment to relax and simply fell into the couch. Giggling, Bulma leaned over on to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You know," she slurred, "I know we broke up a long time ago, but you're still cute."

Yamcha stiffened immediately. "Bulma…" he began, turning his head toward her. It was as far as he got before his former girlfriend pushed her lips up against his. It took the former bandit a second to process what had happened, but the moment he did, he jumped to his feet. Bulma squeaked as she found herself plummeting face first into the couch as Yamcha took an enormous step away.

"Look," he quickly said, holding up his hands defensively, "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dreamt of getting back with you a lot over the last decade, but this is just wrong."

"Why?" Bulma asked, her voice muffled by the cushion she was yet to remove her face from.

"Because it is!" Yamcha snapped back. "When I wanted to get back with you, I wanted to get back with the real you, not the drunk, amnesiac version of you!"

Shakily sitting herself up, Bulma frowned. "What's the problem?" she grumbled. "I want you, you want me, so let's do something about it!"

Sitting down in a chair across from her, Yamcha took a steadying breath. "Bulma," he began, "it's wrong on so many levels, I can't even count them. You're drunk, you haven't wanted me in years, and I really am pretty much over you. And on top of all that, even though you can't remember them, and no matter how much I hate admitting this, you have two people in your life who would go through hell and back for you."

A moment of silence passed in silence, and the scarred man leaned forward. "Bulma?" he asked, looking at her face. Rolling his eyes, he got to his feet as he realized that she had fallen completely asleep during his speech. "Of course," he muttered. "Never try explaining things to a drunk chick…"

He gathered her in his arms and ascended the staircase. When he got to her room, he rolled his eyes again as he found Chi-Chi passed out on Bulma's old queen sized bed. She had managed to get her old dress back on, but apparently that had taken the last bit of her consciousness. Gently, he placed the heiress down on her bed. Before he picked up his charge, though, he went through Bulma's desk to find a pen and some paper. Quickly leaving the note on the pillow, he gathered Chi-Chi in his arms and took off into the night sky.

/////

The next morning, Bulma groaned as she opened her eyes. "Ow," she muttered, cracking her eyes slightly to the assailing sunlight. "Why are the Blue Angels flying through my head?" Her stomach rioted on her, and she barely got her face over her wastebasket in enough time for her to heave.

About an hour later, she felt just good enough to sit up slightly in her bed. "I am never going to drink even _close_ to that much again," she grumbled. Groaning slightly as she positioned her pillows to prop herself up, she noticed something slip off of one of them. "What the hell?" she mumbled, picking up the note.

Slowly, she read her ex's note, her mouth slightly ajar. In all the years she remembered having with him, very little he had done seemed to have too terribly much thought put in to it. That note, however, seemed to actually be from the heart…

_Dear Bulma,_

_I know you probably don't want to be hearing this, but it's about damn time you finally got your life back on track. We've all been watching out for you and watching over you for weeks now, hoping that you would remember on your own. Clearly, that's not going to happen any time soon, so I guess it's time for you to step up. You have an amazing life, Bulma, and it's not fair to you to have to put it on hold just because you hit your head. Whether you think you'll like it or not, I know you love the life you made for yourself. So stop running away from it. Stop pretending that the last twelve years just never happened. You know you have a family out there, Bulma. Be the woman we all know you. Hunt them down and hold on to them. Your friends are here for you, always, but we've helped you as much as we can. Trunks and Vegeta will get you the rest of the way there._

_If you want to get better, and we know you do, go talk to them, and don't let them go._

_-Yamcha_

At the base of the note were coordinates that Bulma could only assume led to the location of her estranged family. She was slightly taken aback by how strongly the letter was phrased, but deep down, she knew it was right.

It was time to get her family back.

/////

Vegeta groaned as he opened his eyes. "What the hell…"

"Good morning, sleepyhead," a very tired Gohan greeted. The poor boy had been up all night long, maintaining his vigil to keep an eye on Trunks. While he had spent a fair amount of time reading and getting notes done for class, he had never been out of the room longer than it had taken him to use that bathroom.

The prince slowly gathered his bearings, still quite confused. The last thing he had remembered was blacking out in the forest after battling Kakarot. It appeared, however, that he was waking up, at dawn, on the floor of his son's room. "How…"

"Dad found you," the teenager filled in, stretching out his very sore body. "He took you to Dende to get patched up and dropped you off here. I figured it would be good to keep an eye on you, too, since you were out cold, so I just put a blanket on you and let you sleep here." He got all the way to his feet and tried to get some blood moving back in his legs. "Hope that's okay."

"Hn," Vegeta simply responded. He still felt lousy, but he was significantly calmer than he had been the day before. Without another word, he descended the staircase and headed for the kitchen.

As he settled on a single apple and some juice for breakfast, a soft knock sounded at the door. _Damn, I really am out of it_, he thought, getting back to his feet. _I didn't even sense someone approaching…_

He flung the door open angrily, ready to yell at whoever had decided to once again invade his privacy. As his eyes registered who stood before him, though, all the anger died in his chest.

"Bulma…"

The heiress coyly dug her toes into the ground just outside the front door, barely maintaining the courage to look the prince in the eye. "H-hi, Vegeta," she softly spoke.

His mind completely blank, the only word Vegeta could manage at the moment was, "Hi…"

The two stood across from each other for almost two full minutes before Bulma finally spoke up again. "If this is a bad time, I could come back later…"

"No," the prince quickly responded. "There is nothing wrong with the time."

After another pause, Bulma finally asked, "Could I come in?"

Wordlessly, Vegeta opened the door and stepped back, allowing her entrance to the home. His head was still screaming at him from the hell he had put it through the day before, and there was a small part of him wondering if the woman was really there or if he had just been hit in the head a little too hard.

"Nice place," Bulma said, glancing around the home. "What is this, a model 437 Capsule House?"

Silently nodding, Vegeta took a seat at the kitchen table. Bulma took off her jacket and tossed it on the couch before joining him at the table.

"Why are you here?" he finally asked. There was a small part of him hoping that the nightmare was finally over, but the Bulma he had fallen for would never stutter a greeting to him. If she was only there for another visitation fight, he wasn't going to bother with pleasantries.

A thousand thoughts crossed Bulma's mind at the question. What was she doing there? Was she there because she felt obligated, or because she really wanted to get her old life back? Was she hoping for some form of peace treaty with the temperamental prince, or was she really trying to get a real relationship going with a man who still seemed like a stranger to her? With a steadying breath, she decided to speak from the heart.

"Did we really have sex on the kitchen ceiling?"


	23. Chapter 23

Vegeta snorted, getting back up to his feet. "Roughly 4,380 days are missing from your memory, and _that_ is the ultimate question you came up with?" He shook his head as he opened up a cabinet. "What the hell made you even ask that?"

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Bulma placed her hands in her lap and stared intently at them. "I, uh, saw a crack on the kitchen ceiling, and then Chi-Chi, um, she said that we, uh…that she thought it was from…"

The Saiyan growled slightly, pulling out the fixings for coffee. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" the heiress asked, her head suddenly snapping up.

"I knew you told that harpy!" Vegeta snapped. "You swore that you would stop telling her every little detail about…"

"YOU MEAN WE DID?" Bulma screamed, slamming her palms against the kitchen table. Both of them winced at the volume, and her face turned an even deeper shade of red. Keeping her voice slightly lower, she hissed at him, "The kitchen ceiling?"

Again Vegeta snorted as the coffee maker started. "Woman, you will be hard pressed to find a place in that house where we have _not_ done it." Offering a slight shrug, he seemed to relax slightly against the counter top. "Besides, it was _your_ idea to try it on the ceiling." He offered an almost wicked smirk before adding, "All six times."

Bulma opened her mouth to protest, but for the first time in weeks, she actually took a moment to contemplate her argument before speaking it. While she was somewhat afraid of being up high without an airplane around her, there had always been a part of her that had wanted to give sex on the ceiling or up high on the walls would be a kinky delight.

"Well," she finally said after a significant pause, "I guess it actually does sound like me…" She shook her head, regaining the blush she had temporarily lost. "I'm sorry, Vegeta. This just seems so…you drink coffee?"

Vegeta found himself slightly caught off guard by that statement. Questions about their history together, about their son, about the age old question of how they had started their relationship he had been expecting. Questions about what he consumed had not. "What?"

Shrugging, Bulma got to her feet and joined him at the counter. "The only other Saiyan I really knew hated it. When I first gave coffee to Goku, he actually turned it down." She giggled slightly at the memory. "It's the only time I can ever remember him turning down food."

Rolling his eyes, the prince pulled two mugs from another cabinet. "Kakarot and I hardly have the same tastes."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." She leaned against the counter just a few feet from the prince. "I like it…"

"First cup black, just to wake you up, second cup loaded with so much milk and sugar that you can't even tell it's coffee anymore."

Bulma blinked, surprised that he knew her ritual. _Although_, she thought for a moment, _if I really did spend a decade with him, I guess it would make sense for him to know my weird habbits…_

"However," he went on, opening the refrigerator, "if you must know, I did not drink it until my fifth month on the planet."

Curiously, the temporarily balded heiress hopped up onto the counter. "Why did you start?"

Calmer than he had been in weeks, Vegeta simply poured the bitter beverage. "We were arguing at seven in the morning," he casually said. "You were making coffee as we fought, you poured two mugs, you slid one toward me." Mimicking the gesture, he slid a dark blue mug toward his estranged lover.

As the scalding cup slip into her hand, Bulma's world suddenly went black and white.

////

"_I am not going to skip out on a board meeting just to fix your toys!"_

_The view whipped around to face the stairs, furiously descending them._

"_Toys?!?" an angry voice barked. "It is not a toy! It is a vital piece of training equipment!"_

_Without turning around, Bulma hopped down the last four stairs. "Well, I'm still not skipping out on a meeting to make up for your own stupid mistakes!" She steered abruptly, turning a hard left into the kitchen._

"_**My**__ mistakes?" the voice behind her shouted. "Your idiocy started this whole thing!"_

_Snarling, she flipped on the coffee maker and whipped around, staring down a clearly agitated Saiyan prince. "No, __**you**__ started the whole thing when you decided to blow the first model of that damn gravity room to hell and back!"_

_Vegeta only snarled. "If we're going to go back that far, __**you**__ started it by building an inferior machine that could not handle a blast that never even connected with the frame!"_

"_You were training at a level that I __**told**__ you was hazardous!" she shouted back._

"_You implied that it would be hazardous to __**me**__, not the machine!" the prince fought back._

_Bulma's view swiftly turned again, looking down at the now hot brew. She forcefully threw open a cabinet and slammed two dark blue mugs onto the counter. In one fluid motion, she removed the pot from heat, poured both cups full, and returned the pot from whence it came. "It never dawned on me, you pain in the ass, that your personal well-being would rank lower on your list of priorities than the well-being of metal and wires."_

_She slid one of them over to her counterpart, not at all apologetic when the overfilled, hot fluid splashed on to his bare left hand. Snarling, Vegeta shook off his damp hand and picked up the scalding mug with the other. "I can heal by getting a night's sleep! That damn machine requires __**your**__ lazy ass to get fixed!"_

_Not even realizing she was doing it, Bulma watched him hesitantly take a sip of the bitter brew. He sucked on the inside of his cheek, considering it briefly before taking another sip._

"_I am not lazy," the heiress fought back, watching him drink. "And my ass, you bastard, is the finest thing you'll ever see!" To prove her point she whipped around, confident that he was still watching her._

"_If you do not fix that damn machine right now…"_

"_Nuh-uh," Bulma interrupted, refusing to turn around. "You tried to hotwire your way in, you're stuck without it until the meeting is over."_

/////

"You tried to hotwire it," she whispered.

Vegeta's eyes grew wide, and he was immediately pausing his sip. "What?"

Bulma's enormous eyes looked up at the prince. "That morning, the one where I gave you the coffee…you had been pushing yourself too hard in your training, and I thought that I could force you to get some rest if I reprogrammed the door to not open. You were mad, and you knew I wouldn't undo it, so you tried to hotwire your own way into it." Slowly, she approached him and took his left hand in hers. "You got an electrical burn on this hand…that's why you flinched when the coffee spilled on it…"

The shocked prince had long since lowered his mug, staring at the woman before him. "You remembered…"

Her body trembling slightly, Bulma gave a silent nod. Slowly, she began to run her fingers over his hands, turning it over for inspection. "You wouldn't let me bandage it."

With a mild smirk, Vegeta shook his head. "A Saiyan does not require medical attention for such a…"

"… 'superficial wound'…"

The smirk dropped from the prince's face. "How much do you recall?"

Biting down on her lower lip, Bulma analyzed him further. "Not much," she honestly answered. Slowly, she brought her head up and offered him a hopeful smile. "But enough, I think, to really give this a try." When the prince did not respond for a minute, the heiress chuckled. "You are so far out of your emotional comfort zone right now, aren't you?"

Vegeta snapped an angry glare her way. "Shut up!"

Bulma only laughed harder, patting his hand before surrendering it. "Okay, tough guy, I get it. No mushy crap." Giving him space even she could tell he needed, she went back to the table with her still steaming beverage. "So, if I'm going to get back into some form of life with you, there's one thing I need you to tell me, honestly, right now."

With a scowl on his face, the Saiyan took a seat on the opposite side of the table and angrily shoved the milk to his estranged lover. "What?"

"How the hell did you and I end up together?"

/////

Watching silently from the top of the staircase, Gohan smiled to himself. Things finally seemed to be on the right track. They were both willing to talk like adults, Bulma was starting to recover her memories, and it seemed like neither one of them was willing to truly give up on it.

Situating himself, the teenager grinned. Not only that, but he had first class seats to what could quite possibly be the only telling of a story that had puzzled mankind for ages!

/////

Groaning, Goku slowly opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight that seemed almost burning to his eyes. "Where am I?"

A sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan sounded next to him. The warrior turned his head to the side, cringing at the pounding in his head. With barely opened eyes, he realized that he was in his own bedroom, in his own bed, sleeping next to his own wife.

It took a few minutes, but Goku eventually realized that something was very wrong with that picture. The last thing he could remember was being up at the Lookout, forcefully eating something as he worried about whether or not Vegeta was actually going to wake up.

"Vegeta!" he called out, sitting bolt upright and regretting it immediately, as did his equally incapacitated wife. His vision blurred, and the pain won out, causing him to black out against his nice, fluffy pillow.

Two hours later, the two Son's seemed to come to at the same time. "I will never drink again," Chi-Chi groaned, trying to force her eyes to close even further. "Not one drop, not at any occasion, not ever, ever again."

Equally off his game, Goku pressed the heel of his hand against his left eye socket. "At least you _know_ what happened to you and why you feel lousy," he mumbled. "I don't even remember coming home last night."

Chi-Chi pulled the blanket up over her head, trying to hide from the harsh light of day. "I think you got home after I did," her muffled voice barely called out from under the comforter. "I'm pretty sure that the bed was empty when I passed out in it." She was a quiet for a moment before adding, "Or was that Bulma's bed I passed out in?"

"I don't know," Goku whined, "but my head is killing me and I'm dying of thirst." Slowly, he tried to get up again, pausing just long enough to feel confident that he would not pass out again. "I'm going to get some water. You want anything?"

Letting out a soft groan, his wife curled up deeper into the blankets. "Bread, water, and as many pain killers as you can get your hands on."

Goku gave the world's most subtle nod as he slowly got out their bed. It was another hour before either of them had the energy or the mindset to actually try to greet the day.

"I take it from the fact that you don't remember coming home last night that you were not, in fact the one who brought me home from Bulma's?" Chi-Chi quietly asked, still not feeling fantastic.

"Hm?" Goku blinked, trying to remember the night before. "Oh, right. I, uh, called Gohan and asked if he could take care of it."

Chi-Chi's eyebrows drew together as she thought about it. "I thought Gohan was supposed to be watching Trunks. If he was doing that, how could he have brought me home?"

Her husband could only offer a shrug as an answer. He had absolutely no idea how she had gotten home, and he was more perplexed with how _he_ had gotten back home. Nothing seemed to make any sense.

Sitting up slightly, the brunette woman noticed something on their night stand. "Hey," she mumbled, reaching for it, "I think there's a note here."

Turning to face her, Goku raised his eyebrows. "What does it say?"

Chi-Chi squinted, still feeling a tad under the weather with her now fading hangover. "It says that the Yamcha Taxi Service is officially closed, and that you're supposed to direct any further questions to Piccolo. Oh, and PS: Goku, drink a lot of water, whatever Piccolo gave you might leave you dehydrated."

Nodding slightly, Goku finally got out of the bed for real. "I need to check on things and make sure that everything is okay," he quietly said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I'll be at the Lookout."

Knowing that Goku would do as he felt regardless of her acknowledgement, Chi-Chi followed her instincts and burrowed back into the warm covers of her bed.

/////

Sitting on the staircase, Gohan had both hands clapped firmly over his mouth and nose. It was all he could do to keep from gasping every ten seconds until he finally heard the words, "That's pretty much what happened."

As soon as the story was over, he staggered to his feet and shot back to Trunks' room. If Vegeta found out that he had ditched the unconscious boy in order to eavesdrop on a story meant for no one's ears, Gohan would face a certainly ugly death.

But only one phrase came out of his mouth as he silently slid back into the room.

"Totally worth it!"

/////

Bulma could only stare blankly at the coffee machine as she began to make more. "That…is a lot of information to process…"

"You asked," Vegeta casually responded. "As you seem to be willing to accept our life together, I refuse to walk on eggshells any longer. I never did so before your damn accident, and quite frankly I refuse to do it any longer. That is not how either of us work, and I'll be damned if I do it any longer."

"You're not damned already?"

The words flew out of Bulma's mouth so fast that she hadn't had a chance to stop them. There she was, barely crossing the threshold of 'comfortable' with this man, and she was damning him without a second thought.

Before she had a chance to apologize, she found herself pressed up against the wall and a very intense Saiyan staring at her. But to her great surprise, he didn't seem angry at all. No, he wasn't mad…he seemed almost happy.

"Now that," he deeply growled, leaning in with a smirk, "is the woman I fell for."

Bulma wasn't entirely certain what was going on, but she did know that she had never been more turned on in her life. Everything about that moment was so raw, so intense…and as their lips hungrily met, Bulma knew it was something else:

It was so familiar…

/////

_Bulma flung the lab door open, growling in frustration as she angrily descended the staircase to the main lab floor. "Damn it, Vegeta, I don't care if it means the androids come and kill us all, I am not going to fix that damn machine the second that __**you**__ break it!"_

_Vegeta flew over her head and landed on the stairs in front of her, blocking her completely. "If I thought that it would give you a chance to build a superior machine, I might actually acquiesce to your constant need for more time. However, as I know you're just going to build the same piece of crap no matter how much time I give you, you are going to do it now!"_

_Knowing perfectly well that pushing him would not do any good, Bulma simply took the railing with a solid grip and hopped over the banister. It was a good ten foot drop, but she had her flats on and knew she could stick the landing. "Look, I've got work to do," the heiress shouted back, adjusting her skirt and her glasses. "Why don't you go find something else to do as soon as you finish unbunching your panties?"_

_Using his incredible speed, Vegeta was immediately next to her again, forcing her to back into the wall. "Do not think that just because we occasionally screw each other that anything between us."_

"_Go to hell," she hissed, putting her hands on his biceps._

_Smirking, Vegeta deeply growled, "Someday, but I think now is a little premature."_

_Between having her hands on her occasional lover's body and listening to his husky, dark voice, Bulma's breathing was becoming faster by the moment. "Is there anyone else in the lab?"_

"_No," he quickly responded._

"_Good."_

_Before another second had passed, Bulma had flung her glasses across the room and the two were pressed up against the wall. As their mouths and tongues fought with each other, they were almost frantically tearing at each others. Bulma's shoes went flying from her feet, and Vegeta lifted her roughly, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Staggering back with a serious lack of focus on his surroundings, Vegeta barely found a near empty lab table. He flipped them around, pinning her on the cool steel as the continued their passionate pastime._

_It was the first of a thousand times they made love in her lab._

/////

Bulma pulled away from Vegeta briefly, gasping for air. "The lab," she panted.

"Which time?" the prince growled, moving down to her neck.

Gasping, the heiress rolled her head back against the wall, letting her eyes roll up in her head as the familiar sensations flew through her body. "The…the first, I think…" She dug her fingers into his hair. "I…I jumped the rail, and you pinned me against the wall," she panted, feeling him slowly going lower on her body. "We…we were on the lab table…we broke a prototype and tore three," she paused to gasp again, "…three blueprints…"

Grunting as he tore her shirt open, Vegeta smirked as he lightly bit her ear. "That was definitely a good day."

Suddenly, Bulma's eyes snapped wide open. "Wait!"

That was not the word Vegeta wanted to hear. "What?" he growled, using the wall to push himself off of her.

Bulma shook her head. "We shouldn't be doing this," she panted, hating every syllable as it left her mouth. "As fantastic as I'm sure it would be…"

"You remember us having sex in the past?" he interrupted.

Slightly stuttering, Bulma answered with a fairly quick, "Yes."

"Do you want us to have sex right now?"

Still breathing hard, the heiress nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, but…"

"So what's the problem?"

Bulma thought for a moment. There was a part of her brain that said that it was all too fast, that any sane person would take their time and get to know him again before immediately jumping him. But a bigger part of her wanted to throw caution, and their clothes, to the wind.

_Well, it worked for us once_, she thought, looking him aggressively in the eye. "Let's make this ceiling like the one back home!"

/////

Note: As much as it pains me to say this, the end of the story is nigh. The next chapter will, most likely, be the last. I may break it into two chapters, but…we'll see. However, there will be at least two shorter stories branching off of this one, so keep your eyes open!


	24. Chapter 24

Gohan cradled Trunks in his arms, flying as quickly as he could toward Kame Island. He had barely made it off the staircase and into the bedroom before Bulma and Vegeta tried to 'recreate the magic'. The moment he figured out what the two of them were starting to do, he had grabbed the boy and jumped from the window. If Trunks woke up soon, and there was a chance that he might, he did not want to have to explain what the noises coming from the kitchen were.

"Geez," he muttered with a smirk on his face, "when your parents reconcile, they really reconcile…"

The eighteen year old tilted his head to the side, clearly sensing it when his father took off for the Lookout. Gohan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Through their telepathic link, Piccolo had been griping to the teenager about the annoyances of being asked, every few minutes, if anything had radically changed. As such, Gohan was already well aware of the fact that in order to get his father to get out of the way, Piccolo and Dende had conspired to slip a potent sedative into Goku's food and had him dropped off back at his house.

_Heads up, Piccolo,_ he signaled his mentor. _You've got incoming…_

The Namekien groaned and dropped out of his meditative position in the Lookout's garden. It seemed like only a few minutes earlier he had gotten rid of the Saiyan, and he was not looking forward to whatever round of intervention they were on.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, the large warrior made a beeline for the palace. Even after his few hours of meditation, he was definitely in a sour mood. He shoved the palace doors open, not at all surprised to see that Dende was already standing there.

"I know," the little guardian mumbled, leaning on his staff, "I know, he's on his way back." He let out a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How bad do you think this is going to be?"

Piccolo was already walking for the edge of the heavenly location, staring over the edge. "It depends. Vegeta is conscious, and it appears that things are finally moving forward with him and Bulma, which should help shut him up for a while. However, it would appear that the two of them are…engaging in activities that should not be interrupted. If we wish for this ordeal to end sooner, we need to keep him from interrupting them."

Dende tried to massage some of the tension out of his neck. When he had taken the oath of guardianship, he had not anticipated playing babysitter to one of the universe's greatest warriors. "Then I suggest that we bluntly tell him what is going on, let him know that the best thing he can do for anyone is to go back home, and then we make a 'Closed' sign for my front door."

The senior Namekien let out a low chuckle of approval. This entire experience had been taxing on all of them, and it was not at all unreasonable for his smaller counterpart to want a vacation.

But the vacation was going to have to start later, because Goku chose that moment to touch down on the immaculate surface. "How is he?" the Saiyan immediately asked.

"Awake, with Bulma, and not to be disturbed," Dende quickly answered. "Well, this has been lovely, Goku, but I'm sure you have things to attend to down on the ground, and I would hate to keep you from them, so…"

"But is he okay?" Goku interrupted.

A vein popped out on the little guardian's forehead, and Piccolo decided it was time to intervene. "Goku, Dende has several things to do today. Leave him be."

The Saiyan opened his mouth to protest, but even he could take the hint. "Oh, sure," he quietly said. "Good luck with whatever you need to do…" Without a moment of hesitation, he whipped around to face Piccolo. "So, how is he?"

Piccolo clenched his teeth and let out a slow breath, reminding himself that Gohan would be upset if he tried to kill Goku again. "He's fine, Goku."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Goku," the Namekien firmly repeated. "He's fine. They are fine. They are together at the moment, and are not to be disturbed. This madness seems to be coming to an end. There's nothing more you need to do."

The shorter warrior seemed to squirm for a moment, staring at his boots for a moment. "Hey," he softly spoke, "can we talk for a minute? I mean, I know I've been here a lot lately, and I know I haven't been easy to get along with recently, but I need someone to talk to right now."

While he wanted to point out that Goku had a _wife_ waiting to listen to him, he knew that it would just be easier to deal with the other warrior and send him on his way. "Very well," he relented. "What do you wish to speak about?"

Goku took a seat on the edge of the Lookout and stuck his feet off the edge. "Everything fell apart when Bulma got in that car accident," he finally said.

Piccolo rolled his eyes as he resisted the urge to mention that yes, in fact, that was the beginning of everything, and that he was quite good at stating the obvious. But, out of a desire to finally have everything resolved, he would keep his mouth shut.

"I don't know what happened," the Saiyan went on. "It's like…it's like my brain just shut off completely, and I haven't been able to do a damn thing right since then. I didn't know how to help her when she was hurt, I didn't do anything to help her when she was in the hospital, I yelled at her when she was in a coma, I've panicked and overreacted every time someone asked me for help so I haven't been helping at all…I haven't been any good during any of this."

"True."

Goku's head snapped up, and he stared at his former rival with a look of shock and hurt on his face. Sure, he had already admitted that he had been making mistakes, but he never thought that one of his friends would agree with him so readily. "Have I really been that bad?"

Without having anything pressing to deal with at the moment, and with things finally seemingly coming to an end, Piccolo decided that it was finally time to speak his mind. "With few exceptions, Goku, yes, you have been."

The other man felt like he had been slapped in the face. With a forlorn look, he turned his gaze off the edge of the Lookout. They were so high up that even he could barely make out the ground below. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Piccolo took a few steps forward, standing directly behind the shorter man. "There is little to apologize for," he calmly stated. "Everything that has happened since this chaos began has not been in your area of expertise, and not your responsibility."

But Goku shook his head, still despondent. "I can save the world from a thousand powerful enemies, but when my friends really needed help, I wasn't there for them."

Piccolo had to take a moment to keep his nerves in tact. As tempting as it was to just kick the man in the back of the head and tell him to suck it up and get over it, that action would not have accomplished anything other than offering the enormous warrior a brief moment of joy. "Goku, you are a warrior. Your job is to save people in a time of war and battle, and you have done that so many times that I'm sure we've all stopped counting. But this did not require a physical fight, and that meant that for once in your life, you weren't the hero."

"I don't always have to be the hero!" Goku immediately defended himself.

"You say that, Goku, because you've always _been_ the hero. Every battle you have fought in your life could be done with your fists, and you grew comfortable being the savior," Piccolo went on. "This battle did not require your skills. It was not your fight. And you've never really dealt with that before, have you?"

Goku thought for a moment. "Well, I…how about when…" And as his mind came up blank, he almost felt himself panicking.

"Admit it," Piccolo pushed on. "You were not the one that everyone turned to and, at least subconsciously, that has been killing you."

The Saiyan wanted to deny it. He wanted to shout that the very idea was absurd, that it was completely untrue. But as he let the words began to sink in, Goku began to realize that the Namekien was right. He wasn't the hero. And that hurt. A lot.

"I don't get it," the father of two said. "It's not like I demand attention or anything. I mean, I'm not Vegeta. How come this is bothering me so much?"

"Because, just as I have told you, you were comfortable in the position of being the savior," Piccolo repeated. "You did not demand our attentions because you got them without demanding. You, like all other mortals, struggle to function when you are not in the role you have grown accustomed to."

The green man took a seat next to his counterpart. "Your human friends, and your son especially, were much better equipped to aid in this chaos. And that's what they did, Goku. They helped. They did whatever they could, and they kept the group together." He paused and looked intently at Goku. "It was their turns to be the heroes."

A soft smile lit up on Goku's face. "It wasn't just the humans," he pointed out. "You, Korin, and Dende have done a lot for us all."

Piccolo snorted. "Dende may have used his talents as a healer, and that obnoxious cat may have grown you some senzu, but the only thing I did for you was not punch you in the head."

"Not true," the Saiyan countered. "If you hadn't been available, I think Gohan might have had a nervous breakdown."

"The point," the green man pushed on, "is that others did the work, and others won the victory. You were not the hero of this story. Take comfort in the fact that the battle is won." He got to his feet and began to turn toward the palace. "And learn from this experience. You are not flawless, and that is okay. Let the others take their glory, and spend some time with your family."

Goku raised an eyebrow. "What does spending time with my family have to do with any of this?"

The tall man said nothing, only nodding toward the closing palace door. There, in the middle of the grand doors, was an obviously quickly made "Closed for Business" sign.

"Oh!" Goku responded, jumping to his feet. "Right! Time for me to go home!"

"Good-bye, Goku."

Feeling oddly calmer, Goku waved to his Namekien friend and jumped off the edge of the Lookout. It was time to go home, rejoice that all was turning out well, and applaud his friends and family for all of their efforts.

/////

Bulma lay on the kitchen table, gasping for air. "Oh, man, if I had any memory at all of how good sex with you was, I would have screwed you so much sooner…"

Vegeta, sitting on a kitchen chair, had a confident smirk on his face as he looked up at the kitchen ceiling. "It's a damn good thing Gohan got the boy out of here when he did," he mused. "That's a much deeper crack than our other ones, and if I am not mistaken, Trunks' bedroom is actually right above that."

The heiress laughed, still dizzy from the endorphin high she was riding. "That was…amazing…"

"It always is," her husband replied with a chuckle. He leaned over and kissed her on the neck. "Can you see straight yet?"

"Dunno," Bulma gasped. She held up a hand and asked, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Again, Vegeta chuckled, shifting his weight so he could get to her collar bone. "Enough."

Once again, the woman laughed. She rolled over, looking her Saiyan in the eyes. "I remember," she giggled, "that time you and I were fighting in the stairwell of the labs, and then we just started to go at it, right there on the stairs…" She paused, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "…and we were half naked…" she kissed the other cheek, "…and then, out of nowhere," she giggled and brought her hand to her mouth, trying to keep from outright laughing. "Oh, Kami, remember how much my assistant screamed when she found us?"

"Her letter of resignation was on your desk an hour later," Vegeta finished. "You lost, what, seven like that?"

Bulma hummed as she kissed him on the lips. "Yep, that's what I remember."

For only the fifth time since he had arrived on the planet, Vegeta genuinely smiled. "Those might be the best words I have ever heard." He kissed her, but quickly pulled back. "You do remember that I don't…"

"…normally do this kissy-cuddly crap," Bulma finished his sentence. "Yeah, honey, I remember." She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer to her. "That's why I'm probably going to hold you hostage here for a while. I may never get another moment like this again."

The smile disappeared completely from the prince's face. "Bulma, I'm…"

"Don't," she interrupted. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Vegeta. That's not who you are, and I don't want you to completely change because of this." She ran her fingers through his hair, taking in every inch of him.

After a moment spent quietly just looking at each other, Vegeta finally broke the silence. "So, exactly how much _do_ you remember?" he finally asked. "I never got true clarification on that between rounds four and five."

Bulma giggled and rubbed her nose against his. "There are a few spots that are still a little hazy," she admitted, "but I remember the important things. I remember the first time I saw you. I remember asking you to move in with us. I remember that rocky, painful beginning we had with our relationship. I remember the birth of our son. I remember what we went through after Cell. I remember how determined both of us were to not let our relationship dissolve. I remember Majin Buu. But most of all, I remember how much happier, how much greater, and how much better my life has been because of you."

She sat up on the table before sliding off of it and on to her husband's lap. "I remember, Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans, how much I love you. And I will never, ever let you go."

Vegeta nuzzled against his wife's neck, having missed her scent desperately. "I am grateful that you are in my life," he confessed.

"I know," the temporarily bald heiress affirmed. She pulled back for a moment and studied him carefully. "You know what else I remember?"

"Hn?"

She squeezed his shoulders and frowned slightly. "I remember you having more muscle than this. You're borderline skinny right now! What the hell happened to you?"

A slight blush crossed the prince's features. "I suppose that I may have been a tad negligent of myself as of late…"

"No shit!" Bulma exclaimed. "When we get home, as soon as you get our bedroom looking like _our_ bedroom again, you're getting in that gravity room and working out. This is not healthy for you!"

"You're actually telling me to spend _more_ time training?" he responded, smirking at his woman. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

Bulma slapped him on the shoulder, a move that had come to be a sign of playful affection between the two. "Seriously, though," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips again, "we need to get you really training again. That, after all, is the obsessive, driven, passionate man I fell for in the first place."

"What, this wasn't passionate enough for you?" he teased her.

"Well, we've only made it through round five," she teased back. "If I recall correctly, our record is seventeen in one day."

Vegeta offered a snort as he began kissing her neck again. "Yes, but the boy was with his twin terror for a weekend. We did not have to even think about him that day." He slowly slid his hand up her back and shook his head. "As much fun as we are having right now…"

"We really should see Trunks at some point," Bulma agreed. "However, if I'm not mistaken, our son, who I owe an enormous apology and massive raise in allowance to, is still out like a light. Can't we keep doing this until he's awake? We have a lot to make up for, after all."

"Yes," the prince agreed, "and I can't believe _I'm_ the one saying this, but if your idiot friends don't know to tell us when he wakes up, they're probably assuming that this entire area is one big 'Do Not Disturb' sign."

Bulma let out an overly dramatic sigh and reached for her back on the floor. "Tell you what," she offered, flipping open her cell phone, "I will send a message to one of my 'idiot friends', letting them know to send one back the minute our kid wakes up." She furrowed what little eyebrow she had as she stared at the screen. Flipping it around, she asked, "That's Gohan's number, right?"

"How the hell should I know?" he lightly growled back. "I don't use that damned device. When I need to know where someone is, _I_ just sense where they are."

"Jackass," she laughed, sending the message out. "There," she said, flipping the phone closed. "Now it's up to them to let us know."

Vegeta rubbed her shoulders, smirking wickedly at the woman in his lap. "Now that we have that taken care of, can we get back on track?"

Bulma smiled suggestively at her prince and tossed the phone aside. "Absolutely," she responded, licking his neck and nibbling on his ear. "So, where were we?"

/////

Note: For those of you who are dissapointed with this as an ending, relax. This isn't the ending. I opted to break my one, epic length chapter down. Peace Out!


	25. Chapter 25

Trunks groaned as he began to stir. Incoherent things were mumbled as the little prince furrowed his brows. Slowly, he began to open his eyes. "Where am I?" he croaked out with an extremely weak voice.

"You're on Kame Island," Gohan softly reassured.

The boy nodded softly, starting to drift off again almost instantly. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright. "My parents…!" He jumped out of the bed and made a break for the window.

Gohan just barely managed to grab on to the purple blur before the boy got out the window. "Whoah, slow down!"

"I know that energy! I know it!" Trunks thrashed wildly in Gohan's arms, desperately trying to get out. His voice was clearly strained, but that would not stop his cries. "That's what I sense whenever my parents are…" The nine year stopped thrashing almost as quickly as he started it. "Oh…I really don't want to go there, then…"

Gohan blinked, trying hard to hide his disgust as a thought crossed his mind. "You know what it feels like when your parents are doing that?"

Trunks snorted. "Believe me, once you walk in on them, that energy signal is burned into your head forever. It never, ever goes away."

The teenager smiled as he put the boy back on the floor, and it broadened as he saw an ear to ear grin forming on the child's face. Trunks turned around, his blue eyes positively sparkling with joy.

"They're okay?" he hopefully whispered. "Mom and Dad…they're okay? Like, really okay?"

Gohan nodded and took a knee, making himself eyelevel with Trunks. "They're just fine," he quietly answered. "I don't know if she has all of it back, but your mom is starting to remember some stuff. And it's enough for you all to be…"

"A family again!" the nine year old croaked. He finally cringed as the pain in his throat truly registered for the first time. "Why is my voice like this?"

"Trunks," Gohan started, placing a hand on the child's shoulder, "do you remember what happened the other day?"

The nine year old's eyes glazed over as he began to think back. "The fight Mom and Dad had," he softly stated. "I remember the fight, and I remember wanting them to stop, and I remember…okay, this is going to sound weird, but I just remember this strange kind of rush and everything going white. And I think Dad was talking to me, but I'm not sure, because I think Dad was yelling at _your_ dad, and I don't remember your dad being there at all."

Gohan sat all the way down on the floor and crossed his legs, signaling for Trunks to do the same. "Trunks, you ascended. You hit the second level of Super Saiyan."

Trunks gawked at those words. "But…but I don't remember _that_ at all!" he protested, pushing his damaged voice to its limits. "That's not fair! That's the coolest thing I'll ever do in my _life_!"

"Remember it or not, it did happen," the teenager assured. "And because you've already broken the barrier, it means you'll be able to do it again _without_, um, freaking out first."

Trunks pouted and crossed his arms. "This is so not cool," he grumbled. "I get all this kick-ass new power, and the _coolest time it happens_ I'm not even aware of it. Major gyp."

Gohan rolled his eyes, but his smile stayed strong. He flipped open his cell phone and quickly sent the message to the reconciled couple to let them know their son was awake. As he slid his phone back into his pocket, he noticed Trunks watching him with great interest. "What?"

"Who are you talking to?"

Again, Gohan rolled his eyes. "I just sent a message to your mom to let her know that you're awake and okay. You've been out for over a day, kiddo, and I promised to let her know."

"_A day?!?_" the boy gawked. "I've been out for an entire freaking _day_?"

"Yep," the teenager quickly replied. "You've out cold."

Trunks closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Gohan could not help but chuckle at how much the boy looked like his father at that moment. "Let me get this straight," Trunks hoarsely began. "My parents fought with each other in the not cool way, then I ascended, then I was unconscious for an entire day, and now my parents are doing something that I really wish I didn't _know_ they were doing right now?"

Gohan leaned back against the wall and uncrossed his legs, enjoying a moment of relaxation. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

The nine year old copied Gohan's movements, leaning his own weary little body against the wall before slumping against it. "You know Mom's not going to get that message any time soon, right?"

"I know," Gohan calmly replied. The exhausted teen stifled a yawn as he reached for the doorknob, refusing to bother standing up. "Fortunately for you, we have just the thing to keep you busy until that happens." He popped the door open slightly before calling out, "All clear!"

Before either of them could blink, a blur of orange and black came barreling into the room. "TRUNKS!" an excited Goten cried out as he tackled his best friend.

Unfortunately for the young prince, he had been in a relaxed position when Goten tackled him against the wall. Two small bodies went crashing through the frame of the house, and the young boys both grunted as they made a very solid impact with the beach below.

A stampede formed on the staircase as Krillen, Roshi, and Yamcha all tried to get to the room to see what had happened. Eighteen, however, simply carried her daughter outside and pointed to the new crater on their property. "And what does this teach you, Marron?"

"Boys are stupid?" the little blonde responded.

"Technically, yes," her mother coolly replied. "But if your father asks, this is a lesson about friendship."

Marron giggled as she watched Goten and Trunks claw their way out of the hole.

"Aw, man!" Goten complained, shaking out his hair. "The sand is everywhere!"

Trunks spat out a mouthful of it before glaring at his partner in crime. "Then don't tackle me into a pile of it!" he croaked out.

Goten snickered as he shook out the lower part of his shirt. "He he, your voice sounds funny, Trunks!"

Without saying a word, Trunks launched himself through the air and tackled Goten with all his might. Goten retaliated, and in under two seconds blows were being exchanged. From the window above, three adults watched with wide eyes.

"Oh, no, they're fighting!" Roshi said.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Yamcha asked.

From behind them, Gohan snorted. "They're not _really _fighting," he calmly stated. "Look, every punch is slightly pulled."

"So?" Krillen asked.

"So," Gohan went on, "this isn't a fight. They're just playing with each other, and this is their favorite game."

Yamcha raised an eyebrow as he watched the boys tear into each other. "Their favorite game is 'Beat the Crap out of Each Other'?"

"Something like that, yeah," Gohan laughed. "Believe me, the worst possible thing you could do right now is try to get between them. They'll think you want to 'play' too, and they'll gang up on you."

Off on the side, Krillen snickered. "Found that one out the hard way, did ya'?" he asked.

Gohan groaned. "Since I'm fairly certain we can all figure out the answer to that question, I'm going to do something that I haven't done for days: I'm going to bed."

/////

Up in the mountains, Goku slid back into his bed where his wife was still curled up. Gently, he pulled her into his arms and rested her head against his chest. "Chi-Chi?" he quietly spoke.

"Hn?" was the only reply the poor, hungover wife could respond with. She had always been a featherweight, and after the way she felt that morning, she really was swearing off all forms of the drink.

Goku wrapped his arms gently around her entire body, pulling her close. "Do you love me?"

Chi-Chi groaned as she tried to submerge her head under the blankets again. What the hell kind of question was that? "Of course I love you, honey," she mumbled.

Her husband squeezed her gently in an affectionate hug. "I love you, too."

The poor housewife would normally kill to get that sort of unprovoked verbal affection, but her head was screaming at her and at that exact moment it was taking all of her willpower to not kick him out of the room.

Again, Goku hugged his wife. "Thank you for loving me, even when I'm not the hero."

Hesitantly, Chi-Chi cracked an eye open. She took a brief moment to catalogue that statement for a future talk, but felt too out of it to deal with it at that exact moment. Regardless of whatever he might have been talking about, she absolutely loved him, so it was not a pressing issue. It could wait for another day. "Any time, sweetie," she mumbled. "Now let me sleep."

/////

Bulma nuzzled against her husband's neck as she lay beside him in bed. Weeks of physical and emotional pain had often left her feeling drained on a level that she could barely comprehend. Even when she had tried to maintain a positive attitude, her heart had never truly been in it. In that one day, though, she found her spark again.

The rush of the entire afternoon had been positively blissful. Certainly there was physical source of euphoria that she had sorely missed in the past few weeks, but for once it was only her second greatest source of ecstasy.

She had her life back. Her _whole_ life was, at last, back within her own control. Her memories, her husband…everything was finally falling into place. All of the pain that their family had been going through was, finally and at last, over.

"You know," she mumbled, pulling herself into her husband's arms, "as much fun as I'm having right now, we really do need to go get Trunks. And before you protest, I know you heard my phone, too."

Vegeta grumbled, but he wouldn't argue with her. Their son had been through just as much, if not more, than anyone else through the ordeal. No matter how great a time they were having with their 'reconciliation', the boy certainly did need to be attended to.

A few minutes later, they were both modest again and ready to go. Bulma stepped up to her husband and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You know what I remember?" she coyly said.

"Hn?"

She jumped up, knowing perfectly well that her Saiyan would catch her up in his arms. "I remember how much fun it is to have you carry me as your soar through the air. Let's go!"

With a smirk on his face, Vegeta took to the skies. It wasn't often that he responded well to things that sounded like direct commands, but that was definitely one moment that he was willing to make an exception for.

/////

Trunks laughed as he continued his spar with Goten. Since the island was so small, most of their battle had to take place in the sky. Goten swung his leg to the side, hoping to get a solid connection with his opponent, but Trunks was fast enough to avoid the majority of the blow. However, Goten did manage to clip the older boy slightly in the shoulder, and while it was not enough to cause any damage, it did throw Trunks slightly off balance.

The nine year old noticed in the nick of time that Goten was preparing to take advantage of that move, and he knew that he had to act fast. In a desperate move, Trunks spun in the air, his leg extended, hoping that Goten's incoming trajectory would fall within his tilted circumference.

As luck would have it, the younger boy _did_ go shooting right into that area. Goten grunted as he caught Trunks' leg firmly in the chest. The boy flew at a tremendous speed, straight for Kame House. He plowed through the roof and landed very firmly on the stomach of his sleeping older brother.

Gohan immediately curled up at the impact, desperately trying to suck in air. "Oh, damn it…" he wheezed.

Goten turned around, wide eyed, and faced his big brother. "Gohan! You swore!"

"Hah ha, nerd boy swore!" Trunks taunted, appearing in the new hole in the ceiling.

"Oh, I think I'm gonna die," Gohan whimpered

Goten hopped off the bed and gave his brother a concerned look. "Are you really gonna die, Gohan?"

"He's fine, you don't need to worry." Trunks called down. He stuck his head through the hole and smirked at Goten. "Or are you just trying to find a way to wuss out of this?"

"Hey! I'm not a wuss!" the youngest boy called out.

He jumped to his feet and launched himself toward the hole. Trunks smirked as he pulled back out of the flight path before getting right back into the fray. For several more minutes, the boys continued their game. Friendly taunts were exchanged with blows, and the boys laughed their way through their fight.

Suddenly, Trunks' head snapped to the side. "STOP!" he yelled out. He froze in the air and stared out over the water. Slowly, a smile began to form on his face. As the image in the distance grew nearer, that smile became a full blown grin. A joyous laugh escaped him as he flew through the air. "MOM!"

Bulma twisted in Vegeta's arms to make sure that her own were open to her son. "TRUNKS!"

Realizing just how quickly the boy was flying at them, Vegeta had to move fast. He flipped his wife under his left arm, tilted sideways to minimize her exposure to the incoming target, and used his right hand to block his son. "Whoah," he grunted at the impact. "Boy, what have I told you about doing that with your mother?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Trunks quickly said, literally climbing over his father's shoulders to get to his mother. Hanging upside down, the nine year hugged his mother. "Mom, you're okay?" he asked. "You're really, really okay? Everything back to normal okay?"

Bulma laughed as she wrapped her arms around her little boy. "I'm okay, Trunks, I really, really am okay. Everything back to normal okay!" She kissed him on the forehead before pulling away slightly and kicking her husband in the shin. "Hey, is it too much to ask that you put me right side up for this little reunion?"

"Picky, picky," the prince chuckled, acquiescing to his wife's request.

Trunks laughed as he swung away just long enough for his mother to be pulled upright again before immediately latching back on. "You're back!" he cried out, tears of happiness rolling down his face. "You're really back!"

Bulma nodded, pulling her son in so the top of his head was right under her nose. Her own tears of joy began to flow, and she looked over her shoulder at her husband. Finally, _finally_, they were a family again.

"Come on, guys," she softly said, "let's go home."

/////

THE END

Ending Note: Well, it's been a heck of a ride, but it had to end at some point. And in reality, it's not _over_ over. There are a couple stories in the works that are direct spin offs of this one.

I want to thank you all for your wonderful support with this story. Your reviews have kept me motivated to keep this and other stories going. I thank you, one and all.

Peace Out!


	26. Chapter 26

This is really just an update for anyone who is interested. The sequel to this story, "Reconstruction", will be posted the first weekend of December. Hope to see you there!


End file.
